


The Only Way Out is Through (Or: How to be Almost, Mostly, Okay Again)

by electricteatime



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: (and associated minor body horror), Amanda Brotzman (mentioned) - Freeform, Anger, Attempts to justify abuse (trauma denial), Childhood Trauma, Confrontation, Desperation, Dirk Gently getting all the love and support he deserves, Discussions of Human Experimentation, Discussions of trauma and past violence/abuse, Dissociative Episode, Emotional Support, Found Family, Gaslighting, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Farah/Tina, Mild Dissociation, Minor breakdown, New Relationship, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Recovery not being a linear thing, Singing, The Mexican Funeral (mentioned) - Freeform, Tina Tevetino (mentioned), anxiety attack, discussions of child abuse, doubting your own reality, guitar playing, mentions of branding, mentions of scars, mentions of unethical surgical procedures, pararibulitis, sensory triggers, supportive boyfriends, traumatic sense memory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16000730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricteatime/pseuds/electricteatime
Summary: "Terrible as it is, it’s easier to cling to the hope that there were good reasons for what they did. That the people who treated him well were at heart good people, and they hadn’t just been lying to him the whole time, that the small amounts of affection he’d been given were real and tangible. Even when he knows the truth somewhere deep inside it doesn’t mean he wants to acknowledge it.But, like all things, it’s only a matter of time."***The only thing Dirk Gently has ever learned to do with his trauma, is shove it down as deep as it will go, lock it away, and hope that ignoring it means it isn't really there. For a while at least, it works. But when the past comes knocking looking to make amends, and pretending that none of it was as bad as it seemed isn't an option anymore, the delicate balancing act he's been practicing for years finally tips over the edge.Healing is painful, recovery isn't linear, sometimes you have to tear everything down before you can start to rebuild.His own demons might be the scariest thing he's ever had to face, but it's not something he has to do alone, and in the end that makes all the difference.





	1. All things, in time, make themselves known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello it's me, trying something new! 
> 
> I was going to save this fic and post it as one big block of text when it's finished, but chaptering fics is something I struggle with and so I thought as this is my next long project I'd give it a go. As such, I can't promise that my chapters won't split in weird places, and I certainly can't promise to stick to a reliable posting schedule, but I can promise that I love this fic and I wanted to share it with you in the hopes that I'll actually write it. 
> 
> This fic will deal with PTSD and the aftermaths of trauma, I'll do my best to tag it accurately. Tags and characters will be updated with each chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

In retrospect it should have been obvious that the knock on the door would bring bad news. 

 

Things had been going slowly for just over a week now, and while usually a bit of peace and quiet would be welcome, Dirk had been getting all kinds of antsy waiting for the unsettling feeling creeping up and down his spine to reveal itself to be either nothing at all, a sign he should buy a new mattress, or a hunch. He's been hoping it's  _ not _ a hunch, because the ones that unsettle him before he even knows what they are are never fun to deal with so, naturally, it turns out to be just that.

 

He doesn't know that when the knock sounds though. It only becomes entirely too obvious when he opens the door and he opens his mouth to speak but chokes on his words before he can get them out, panic washing over him so abruptly he forgets how to breathe. The smile falls off his face, frozen in place and shoulders tense when he realises there isn't anywhere he could run to, and he certainly couldn't bring himself to fight. He feels trapped, a deer in the headlights, a rabbit staring down a wolf. A wolf that hasn’t even said anything yet. 

 

Colonel Riggins looks older and much more tired than the last time he saw him but it doesn't make him feel any less intimidated by his presence. If it didn't turn his stomach it would almost be impressive how small he can make him feel just by being here, like he’s all of ten years old again with the heavy weight of his disapproval weighing down his shoulders. Like he wants to drop his eyes, like he wants to say he’s sorry. He can taste the word on his tongue already like it’s begging to be let out. Like it could save him. 

 

It never did before, he doubts it will now. 

 

“Dirk?” Todd’s voice pulls him back to the present, shaking him out of whatever place his mind was trying to send him back to. Riggins seems to pre-empt his movement, putting his hand on the door before Dirk tries to slam it. Gentle force, like always. 

 

“I just want to-” he starts but Dirk doesn't care. He can’t be here, he  _ shouldn’t _ be here. Not  _ here _ . Not now. 

 

“No!” he shakes his head, moves to take a step back but just ends up swaying on the spot, too afraid to let go of the door in case he opens it further and steps inside. “No. I'm sorry, we're closed. You’ll have to come back some other time, or never, really.” It's not true at all but his head is spinning far too much to come up with a better excuse.

 

“Dirk,” and god he wants to slap that name right out of his mouth because it's not  _ his, _ it's not for him and he doesn't deserve to know it let alone say it, but it's better than the alternative he supposes. He still hates the way he says it, like he’s talking to a child even now. He thinks he knows it’ll get to him, he was always good at masking his manipulation with caring concern.  “I'm not here to do anything other than talk.”

 

“I don't want to hear it,” he’s trying so hard not to let on how much he's getting to him, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he  _ always  _ gets to him. Always makes him want to say yes, want to make promises, want to be good. He hates that he still wants to make him proud, that the thought of displeasing him turns his stomach with fear and guilt and  _ shame _ . 

 

“You don't even-”

 

“He said no.” Todd. Todd is here and he looks… like he's waiting to be angry. His tone is firm and leaves no room for argument, arms crossed over his chest as he puts himself just in front of Dirk like he's ready to step between them if he needs to.

 

Dirk doesn't think he's ever been so grateful to see him. 

 

Riggins looks him up and down, looks between him and Dirk like he's assessing the merits of pushing the situation, and eventually sighs to himself. 

 

“I wanted you to have this,” there's a box at his feet that Dirk hadn’t realised was there until he moves to pick it up, he recognises the symbol stamped across the top of it and his grip on the door turns so hard his knuckles go white with the force of it. “It's gone. Orders from on high to shut the whole thing down and I wanted to…” he trails off, and  _ god  _ he looks tired, but Dirk doesn't want to feel any sympathy for him. He shakes his head. “These belong to you, anyway. You can do what you want with them. If you change your mind about talking then there's a contact number in there. I'm… it's up to you. Whatever you want.” Dirk can only stare at him, he wants to feel angry, to dig down and find that rage that sometimes overcomes him at the thought of the man. To throw it back in his face at the thought of  _ now  _ being up to him, wondering what's changed and  _ oh  _ how  _ gracious  _ he is to  _ allow  _ that. It’s easier to be angry when he isn’t stood right in front of him making him feel so very small though, and all he can do is nod.

 

Todd takes the box from him, because someone has to and Dirk doesn’t look like he’s going to move any time soon. This time he does step between them, into the space of the open door.

 

“You're done. You can go now.” Riggins looks like he wants to protest but instead he nods once, putting his hat back on and there's something almost soft in the way he looks at Dirk. Almost paternal.

 

“I'm glad to see you're doing well,” he says before turning on his heel and walking away.

 

Todd sets the box down off to the side, easing the door out of Dirk’s grip to close it behind him. Dirk doesn't realise how much he'd been relying on it for support until it's no longer there and he wobbles dangerously, saved from falling by Todd catching him and guiding them both down to the floor, his voice is gentle and reassuring but Dirk isn't listening to what he's saying.

 

He’d been here.

 

His skin feels itchy in the worst kind of way. Everything is too close and his chest is too tight, he can’t  _ breathe _ , and he scrambles to pull his tie off and throw it to the side, fingers shaking as he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt to try and alleviate some of the pressure. It’s still there though, whatever that feeling is, clawing its way up his throat and threatening to suffocate him. He’d been  _ here _ . In  _ his _ space.  _ His _ new life. He wasn’t stupid, he’d known Blackwing had known where he was, he has a giant sign with his name on it for fucks sake, but for some reason he’d never contemplated seeing him ever again. He’s trembling all over he soon realises, gasping for breath and  _ oh _ , that’s why he feels dizzy. He doesn’t even realise he’s tugging at his hair until there are hands, strong and steady around his wrists and he tries to jerk away but there’s nowhere to go because he’s sat against the door and they  _ never _ like it when he gets like this, and oh god he’d shouted at Riggins, he’s going to be in  _ so _ much trouble. 

 

“Hey,  _ hey. _ Dirk, c’mon. You’re going to hurt yourself.” The voice doesn’t fit. The words don’t fit. The tone doesn’t fit. That  _ name _ doesn’t fit. For one wild moment Dirk wonders if he’s straight up lost his mind. 

 

Then his breath finally catches and he inhales sharply. It’s not much better than before, the staccato rise and fall of his chest as he tries to get some semblance of rhythm back into his lungs, but at least now he’s breathing at all. 

 

“Come on,” there’s a hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, steady and grounding as he tries to find a way to tether himself to the present. 

 

“I- it’s- I c-can’t-” the words are no easier and he abandons them in favour of shaking his head and pressing his lips together. 

 

“You  _ can _ . You can, come on. In and out, you can do it.” Something in the back of his mind tells him that the voice is familiar,  _ safe _ . He doesn’t know how true that is but whoever it belongs to is tugging his hand away from his hair and pressing it against their own chest. “Just like this, breathe with me.”

 

It takes him a minute to work out what he means, and then he’s letting himself fall into the steady rhythm below his hand and trying to copy it. The choppiness of his breath finally starting to calm down after a few long moments as he starts to piece together his surroundings. 

 

Sunlight. It’s bright in the room, one long window spilling it over the floor and up the walls. Nothing like being in a box. The door at his back is solid, the floor too. His shirt is soft against his skin and far, far removed from the itchiness of military issue jumpsuits. It smells familiar, light and clean but not overly sterile. Somewhere there’s a hint of something berry scented. A candle, he remembers. One Todd had laughed at him for buying but he’d caught him lighting later on.

 

Todd. 

 

The heartbeat under his fingers is strong and steady, he can still feel the evenness of his breaths, the firm pressure of his fingers around his wrist, the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Todd’s hand settled between his shoulders feels like the most solid thing in existence right now. 

 

“You with me?” he sounds concerned, well, he sounds like he’s trying not to sound concerned and failing badly. Dirk feels a sudden wash of guilt for worrying him like that. 

 

“Fine. I’m fine. Excellent assisting Todd, we’re all good here. You can go now.” His voice is shaky, fake cheeriness fraying at the edges of it like he might shatter altogether if he keeps talking. Dirk  _ desperately _ doesn’t want him to go, fingers curling into his shirt in contrast to his words, but he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say. Usually he’s alone when this happens, he’s never had to deal with having someone else in the aftermath. 

 

“Dirk. You just had a panic attack,” how he manages to sound both derisive and worried all at once is a mystery to him. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his voice wobbles, and for a terrifying moment he thinks he’s going to start crying. “It was just some… mild alarm.”

 

“You stopped breathing!” It’s exasperation more than anything but it still manages to make Dirk tense up. Todd rubs his hand on his back again as he back tracks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean- it’s okay to not be okay. You don’t have to… pretend, or whatever. You have, well. Me, I guess. And Farah. People who care about you. It’s not- we’re not going to go anywhere if you’re not always fine.”

 

The thing is that Dirk  _ knows _ this, but on some level he’s terrified of it happening all the same. “You don’t even know who that was,” he says in lieu of argument, voice small as he fidgets with the edges of his shirt where it’s come untucked. 

 

Todd shrugs, “I know enough.” He moves to sit down beside him, keeping close. 

 

Dirk huffs, rubbing a hand over his face, “you don’t know  _ anything _ .”

 

“I know he’s an asshole. I know he upset you. I know I’d punch him in the face if I saw him again,” it’s enough to pull a weak smile to Dirk’s face. 

 

“He’s military. CIA.”

 

“Good. I’d hit him twice as hard, I hate the government.” Dirk snorts, Todd smiles at the sound of his laughter. 

 

“Aren’t you a little old for classic teenage rebellion?” he sounds more like himself, and Todd is willing to play along with that if it helps. 

 

He shoots him a dirty side glance, only half joking with it. “You don’t outgrow punk. Telling the world to fuck off is a lifelong commitment.”

 

“Ah. I see.”

 

Todd rolls his eyes fondly. “No, you dont.”

 

“No, I don’t. But you’re not that great at it. Does it count as telling the world to ‘fuck off’ if you don’t mean it?”

 

It’s Todd’s turn to snort at that, “I mean it.”

 

“Do you though? You were being awfully nice just then,” and there it is, the vulnerable insecurity that creeps into Dirk’s voice sometimes that Todd wants to find the source of and beat the hell out of it. Maybe he might have a chance to if his suspicions are correct and it had just turned up at their door. 

 

“Yeah, well. ‘Fuck off’ is only really meant for the bad parts,” he shrugs, letting some of his own insecurity out because he knows it’ll put Dirk at ease. “You’re not one of them.”

 

An interesting expression comprising mostly of shock, delight and disbelief crosses Dirk’s face, and Todd hates that he's always surprised when someone says something even vaguely nice to him. It makes him feel guilty for some reason, an ache deep in his stomach he can't place.

 

“Oh. Right. I suppose… well, you  _ did _ throw a shoe at me,” he's looking at Todd like he's not sure how that will go down.

 

“You broke into my apartment, it was completely deserved.”

 

“I didn't  _ break in _ ,” he says, affronted, “the window was already open.” 

 

Most of the tension is gone from his shoulders now, but Todd keeps his hand pressed there just in case, watching him with a soft expression and debating his next words.

 

“You want to talk about it?” he asks, cautious as he glances at the box he'd set down to the side of them. Dirk hunches his shoulders again, only a little this time though.

 

“Not really,” his eyes flit over to the box, briefly resting on the symbol on top before he looks back at Todd. There's something assessing in his eyes when he does, and a moment later he corrects, “not yet.”

 

Todd watches him right back, nodding after a moment. It’s enough, and it’s what Dirk needs right now. He’ll take it. “Alright. I’m gonna make some of that weird, shitty tea you like so much, go pick a movie.”

 

Dirk eyes him suspiciously like it might be a trap, Todd is quite strict on movie choices and few of Dirk’s favourites ever make the cut. Todd rolls his eyes at his expression though, pushing himself off of the floor and holding out a hand to tug Dirk up with him, and it seems he's in one of his rare moods where Dirk could probably push his luck quite far and only get minimal complaining. He takes his hand with a soft smile. 

 

“Don't forget-”

 

“An entire bag of sugar?” he raises his eyebrows in a way that takes the sting out of the mocking. “I know.” 

 

Dirk can’t help but smile at that, and Todd sends him a soft smile of his own in return. It feels, for a moment, like everything will be okay.

 

***

 

Dirk seems to settle after a while, curled up on the sofa cradling his tea and watching Legally Blonde completely enraptured like he hasn't seen it a million times before now. He has. Todd knows all too well that he has. Still, he can't bring himself to begrudge him the simple things right now, not when Dirk moves to curl into his side with a pleased little hum when Todd sits down next to him. Not when Todd spends most of the film watching Dirk watch the screen and trying not to think too much about what happened earlier.

 

There are a lot of things he wants to ask, a lot of things he wants to understand, there always have been when it comes to Dirk. He wears his heart on his sleeve, but anything else is locked down and shoved away under god knows how many layers of doors and walls and barriers, and if he's honest he's already accepted that there are plenty he might never get through. He wonders sometimes if Dirk thinks he's protecting him by not telling him, wonders if maybe he's right. He wouldn't know how to ask anyway, wouldn't know where to start, wouldn't know how to handle it with the care Dirk deserves for something like this. For anything really. Todd already knows there are things Dirk could tell him that will only leave him feeling filled with a violent defensive rage, and he knows that isn't what he needs. Their relationship is still new, still finding its footing, but Todd has found himself wanting so badly to be able to give Dirk what he needs. Perhaps part of the reason he hasn't asked is because he's so worried he'll fail him.

 

There's no need to ask now though, Dirk has all but cuddled his way into his lap at this point and he's had enough stress for one day. It's still lingering around the edges, the way he can't quite keep his fingers from fidgeting over every little thing, and it only becomes glaringly obvious when the movie credits start rolling and Todd suggests they go to bed.

 

He feels the way Dirk tenses all the way down his spine at the thought of it, smooths his hand across his shoulders without thinking.

 

“You need to sleep,” he says softly, firm with it like he's not going to stand any arguing, and Dirk glances up at him before his eyes flit away back over to the screen.

 

There's a long silence where Todd just waits for him to speak, knowing at least if he's taking this long to say whatever is on his mind it isn't going to be the usual bullshit he tries to pull when he wants to get out of things. He doesn't mind waiting for something that matters.

 

“What if…” Dirk speaks up, breaking the silence for a moment only to shake his head and pull away. “No. No, you're right. Sleep is important and we should… do that.”

 

Todd catches him by the wrist before he can pull away completely.

 

“What if what?” 

 

Dirk shakes his head again but he doesn't try to pull away this time. “It's… stupid. Not worth thinking about really,” he tries a smile but it's the thin, tired kind that Todd hates seeing on him. 

 

He hates it even more now.

 

“But you  _ are _ thinking about it,” because telling Dirk it's not stupid before he even knows what it is is a surefire way to get an eye roll and have him close off entirely. “So just… it can't hurt to share it, right?”

 

Sometimes Dirk will find a way to circumnavigate any logic thrown at him, and Todd’s is admittedly weak, but it’s almost like he was looking for an excuse to tell him, because as soon as he decides he’s not going to argue it all comes out at once. 

 

“What if he comes back?” he asks, voice a rushed whisper as he drops his gaze downwards, sure that Todd isn't going to think it's worth worrying about. “What if… he knows we're here now. Knows I'm here. What if he comes back with more people? What if he comes back with…” the name sticks in his throat but Todd knows who he means, squeezes his hand tighter. “What if he takes me again? What if he… what if he takes  _ you _ ? What if he hurts you? What if he… it might not be safe.” 

 

Todd doesn’t really have any idea where to start with that. 

 

“He said it had closed down, right? That they’d shut it all down and that’s why he came by? They can’t come here if they don’t exist.”

 

“But we don’t  _ know _ that! He could have been lying! He always… well. No. Not… he never really  _ lied _ I think that might have been… or did he? I don’t… It doesn’t matter. He could be lying now. He could be making it all up. We don’t  _ know  _ anything, and we _ can’t  _ know anything until it’s too late.” He looks up at him, eyes wide and desperate and Todd isn’t sure how to reassure him but he has to try.

 

“Dirk,” he says softly, reaching out to take his hands where his fingers are twisting themselves into agitated knots. “I don’t think he’s going to come back,” he starts, cutting Dirk off when he opens his mouth to protest, “ _ but _ if he does… isn’t he going to do it anyway?”

 

Dirk frowns a little, “well,  _ yes _ , but-”

 

“So doesn’t that mean it doesn’t matter where we are?”

 

“I mean, I  _ suppose  _ so…”

 

“So if we need to sleep, and it might happen but it might not and there’s nothing we can do either way, shouldn’t we just go to bed?”

 

Dirk sighs, holding out for a minute before burying his face into his hands tiredly. “I’m  _ scared _ ,” he whispers, exhaustion peeking through the words, and Todd might not know how to fix everything, but he thinks he might be able to fix that. 

 

“I know,” because even if he doesn’t really know what happened, who that man was, or why Dirk was so shaken by him, he knows none of the answers to those questions are good. “I know you are. But just- come to bed. You don’t have to sleep, just take it one step at a time, yeah?”

 

It feels like years pass before Dirk nods his agreement, letting Todd pull him up and herd him through to the bedroom. From there it’s easy enough to get them both stripped down and under the covers, both too tired to make it difficult. Instead Todd finds Dirk curling into him, a rare thing seeing as he usually sleeps flat out on his back with an unnerving degree of stillness, but Todd takes it in stride as he wraps an arm around him, letting him settle his head on his chest. 

 

There’s quiet between them for a long time, but neither are sleeping. Dirk is away in his head somewhere and Todd is loathe to leave him to it, brushing fingers lazily through his hair while he waits for him to relax. 

 

“Do you want to know?” he murmurs, breaking the silence of the room. Todd hadn’t been expecting him to speak at all, but he manages to get his words together fast enough to reply even through the hazy way sleep is starting to call to him.

 

“Only if you want me to,” because he  _ does _ want to know, that’s unavoidable, but knowing when Dirk doesn’t want him to feels like it would be a violation and he’d rather never know anything than have that happen. 

 

“You’d be okay with it, if I never told you?” he sounds uncertain, like he’s waiting for Todd to prove him wrong. 

 

“I’d still worry about you,” he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing that. “And I can’t promise that I wouldn’t  _ think _ about it. But… if you never wanted me to know then I’d be okay with that. As long as you didn’t think you’d have to shut me out when it hurts you.”

 

Todd can hear Dirk thinking and he’s happy to let him, this is something that he needs to find his patience for, he knows that much. 

 

“I  _ do _ want you to know,” he admits after a long moment. “It’s just… it would be hard to tell you. And you might not- well, no, you won’t like a lot of it. It’s not… I’ve never really told anyone before. There’s never really been any point, but…” he trails off, Todd can hear him swallow, feel the way he presses his hand down over his chest like he can keep him there. “I don’t want you to… you’ll see me differently, I think. You might…” pity him, maybe. Be scared of him. Be disgusted. Dirk knows his childhood wasn’t exactly normal and there’s really no telling how Todd would react. “That’s not what I want.”

 

Todd isn't good with words, and he doesn't want to make promises he can't keep, but the thought that it would change anything between them makes an ugly feeling fill his chest. He places his hand over Dirks where it's pressed against his skin, slotting their fingers together and squeezing softly. “It… it might change, a little,” he shakes his head because he's not sure he can make his thoughts make sense to Dirk. “It might change how I understand you, but it won't… It won’t change what I think of you.” He's already in far too deep for that. “I mean… after all the crazy shit we’ve seen you really think I’m going to give up now?”

 

“I…” Todd finds himself suddenly afraid of the answer Dirk is going to give him. “I know this isn’t exactly…  _ normal _ . It can be a lot and I suppose… I’m already prepared for the idea that one day it will probably get to be too much for you. If you left… well. I wouldn’t want to put up with this, if I had the choice. I don’t think I could  _ blame  _ you for it.”

 

“Dirk…” he feels helpless, like someone has pulled a rug out from under him and he falters while he tries to work out what to say. “Look at me,” he says, feeling more than a little desperate in a way he’s unfamiliar with. They can’t see each other very well in the dark but Dirk shifts to look at him anyway, eyes wide and uncertain. “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you. There’s  _ nothing _ crazy enough to make me leave.”

 

“You say that but-”

 

“I’m saying that because it’s  _ true _ . Maybe you don’t believe it, maybe it’s easier or whatever to just not believe it, but there is nothing that could ever convince me to leave you. Even if we end up fighting, fuck… I don’t know, an army of fire breathing unicorns from space, I’m gonna be there. So you’re just gonna have to… deal with it.”

 

There’s a long moment of silence before Dirk asks, “fire breathing unicorns from space?” in a way that Todd knows means he’s being mocked. 

 

“Shut up, our lives are crazy. I’m keeping my options open,” he’s relieved though, glad that the worst of it seems to have passed.

 

“I sincerely hope we never meet anything like that, but if we do…” he looks a little nervous, Todd wishes he didn’t find it cute. “I’d be glad to have you with me.”

 

“Good. Because I’ll be there whether you like it or not,” he knows he’s said the right thing when Dirk makes a pleased little hum and cuddles in closer. It’s good for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title may be subject to change, and the best way to keep updated with this fic is to subscribe to it (or me, or both) and you'll get a little alert when I post something.
> 
> Comments will make me write faster, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I hope you like it, I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope to see you for Chapter 2!


	2. Something old, something new.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk has learned by now to expect the unexpected, but no matter how he tries he can't prepare himself for everything, especially when it comes to things he's been trying not to think about. 
> 
> When something he'd thought he'd lost forever comes back to him, he's not quite sure what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me, back with a second chapter! I thought I'd get this one up quicker than I actually did, and it's shorter than I originally intended, but it's here now and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This fic will deal with PTSD and the aftermaths of trauma, I'll do my best to tag it accurately. Tags and characters will be updated as needed with each chapter.

The box sits unopened under Dirk’s desk, and for a time it seems almost like it’s been forgotten about. 

 

Dirk wishes he  _ could _ forget about it. Instead it sits at the back of his mind, too heavy to ignore and he knows it’s only going to be a matter of time before he gives in and opens it. He’s afraid of what he’ll find there when he does. 

 

In some ways he already knows. Files and records, all the information Blackwing had collected on him but had never thought to share with him. There’s nothing in there that he hasn’t lived through, and that means that there’s also nothing that should surprise him, but it’s not that simple. He knows better than to think that some of the things they did won’t shock him to read about even if he had dealt with it before. Getting himself through it in the moment is entirely different to seeing it printed out in black and white, harsh clear letters that leave no room for justifications or escaping the reality of what had been happening. There are things that he’d always suspected, but never truly  _ known, _ that the information in there has the power to confirm and he doesn’t know if he wants to know for sure. Terrible as it is, it’s easier to cling to the hope that there were good reasons for what they did. That the people who treated him well were, at heart,  _ good  _ people and they hadn’t just been lying to him the whole time, that the small amounts of affection he’d been given were  _ real _ and tangible. Even when he knows the truth somewhere deep inside it doesn’t mean he wants to acknowledge it. 

 

But, like all things, it’s only a matter of time. 

 

It’s late one night when he first thinks about opening it. Lying awake on the sofa, having promised Todd he'd follow him to bed in a minute a few hours ago now, but Todd hasn't come to find him which means he's long since fallen asleep. It's good, he thinks. Todd needs the sleep, and Dirk needs the space. 

 

But now he's wishing he'd at least  _ tried _ to sleep, staring at the ceiling and trying to find patterns in the plaster like it might distract him from the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty that simmers low in his gut. It's like a bomb, he thinks. Sat under his desk downstairs, biding its time until he's stupid enough to open it and likely blow himself up in the process. He's waiting for something, some kind of sign to say it's the right time, that it's safe to do it now, but he knows deep down it isn't going to come.

 

He wishes he could burn the damn thing without looking and have done with it.

 

But…

 

And that's the thing, really. Dirk has always been insatiably curious, always wanted answers, especially for the things that had happened to him, and now he might have them right in his grasp. What he sees in there he can't  _ un _ see and it scares him, but he also thinks that maybe he  _ deserves  _ this. Deserves to know what it is they wanted from him, what it is they thought he could do, what the  _ point _ of all that was. Because there had to be a point, didn't there? There had to be a  _ reason _ . The thought of anything else is too much to contemplate, and perhaps… perhaps with the right information he can start to understand. Perhaps it'll be enough to prove all of his justifications correct, and he'll realise that it  _ was _ as necessary as they always told him it was.

 

Maybe that will make it easier.

 

He considers the silence of the room, watching the bedroom door thoughtfully, before pulling himself up off the sofa and heading for the door that will take him out of the apartment and down to the office below. 

 

It takes him a moment to find the right key when he gets there, fumbling in the dark and cursing himself for not turning on a light before creeping downstairs, until eventually he manages to get the door unlocked and makes his way inside. It's just as they left it, but seems almost unfamiliar like this. Silent and empty even when he flicks the light on, smiling at the organised row of post-it notes stuck to Farah’s desk, the half empty cup of coffee left on Todd's. Little things that might not mean much to anyone glancing in, but mean the world to him when they broadcast the fact that he’s not doing this on his own. The excitement of having people actually stick around hasn't worn off yet, and part of him hopes it never does. His own desk is cluttered with all sorts of things, an abandoned pile of half finished paperwork, strange items he's been given as gifts for working cases, books he never intends to read, a small potted plant, a never ending supply of fidget toys that delight him and frustrate everyone else. He has to make room before he hauls the box up into the space. It's heavier than he'd expected, bigger as well. He's not quite sure what to do now he's got it here.

 

He traces his fingers over the symbol on the top, something he'd tried to make sure would never be applied to him again, but perhaps things like that are beyond his control. There's an instruction labelling the box as government property, saying it's not to be removed, his hand drifts to brush over his shoulder without thinking before he shakes himself out of it, taking a breath to steel himself as he fights off the way his body tries to freeze with indecision.

 

It feels imposing, like it’s taking up all the available space he has and draining the light from the room. But that’s ridiculous, he  _ knows  _ it is. They aren’t supposed to have a hold on him anymore,  _ certainly  _ not through something as simple as a box full of files. It's nothing he doesn't already know, he tells himself. He'd handled everything in there once, he can handle it again and even if he can’t nobody is here to  _ make  _ him do anything. This is his decision. He clings to that thought desperately as he pries the lid off, quick, like a plaster, only to slam it shut almost immediately when he catches a glimpse of yellow and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

 

His knuckles are white where they're clenched around the edge of the box, eyes screwed shut and biting down on his lower lip because he'd thought…

 

He opens the lid ever so slightly, peeking inside, just to make sure. His heart is racing, but slowly he takes the lid off and sets it down to the side, fingers trembling as he reaches out to touch the soft leather of his yellow jacket. He’s confused, and maybe a little awed to see it here, seemingly in one piece. It takes a moment before he spots something else underneath, and he lifts the jacket out carefully, eyes filling with tears as his suspicions are confirmed.

 

The Mexican Funeral shirt that Todd had given him, the one he'd made him promise not to get shot in, the one Dirk had cherished from the moment it had been handed to him, the one he'd lost mere hours later when they'd stripped him down and forced him back into those  _ awful _ jumpsuits, sits folded carefully on top of the box like it had never been taken from him at all.

 

He pulls it out of the box, fingers tracing the pattern carefully as he tries to comprehend that they'd kept it, tries to work out  _ why  _ they'd kept it. For a moment all he can manage is a confused type of relief, but then a sudden hot flush of anger overtakes him in a way he's never really felt before, because they didn't have any  _ right  _ to take them from him in the first place, let alone to give it back like a  _ gift. _

 

He wonders if it would have been used as a reward, something to be given and taken away on a whim, dangled in front of him and serving of a reminder of everything he'd had, everything they'd dragged him away from. If Riggins had been there he knows it would have been, but Friedkin either wasn't that smart or wasn't that cruel, and Dirk doesn't know whether he's grateful for that or if he's angry they hadn't even taken it for a purpose. They’d just taken it for the sake of  _ taking  _ it. He likes to think if they had given it to him he would have torn it to shreds so they couldn't use it again. 

 

He knows in reality he wouldn't have been able to, he’d been too scared that they’d destroyed it already. 

 

The anger dissipates as suddenly as it had come, and he slams the lid back onto the box before he can see any more of what's in there. He can't face it, thought he'd be strong enough but of course he isn't, he never  _ is _ . He shoves it back under his desk where he doesn't have to look at it, gathering up his jacket along with the t-shirt and holding them close to his chest like he can stop them from being taken again. That move turns out to be a mistake.

 

They smell like Blackwing. Sterile and clean, a little metallic, it clogs his nose and sits unpleasantly at the back of his throat and before he knows what he's doing the anger is back, surging in a way he couldn’t hold back if he wanted to, and he's slamming the door behind him as he storms upstairs. He doesn’t give any thought to the hour, or the possibility of waking Todd as he makes his way through to the kitchen and plugs the sink, turning on the water and dumping the clothing under it. It's far too hot for his hands, but he ignores the way it burns, intent on scrubbing them clean as best he can because apparently there's  _ nothing  _ Blackwing can't get into, can't sink its teeth into and stay there. These things aren’t part of Blackwing, they’re  _ his _ things, that overly familiar, startlingly oppressive scent never should have been here,  and he wants it  _ out _ . If he can’t get it out he can’t keep them, and they’re  _ his.  _ Not theirs. He’s not theirs. 

 

“Dirk,” the sound of his name comes tired and confused from the doorway behind him. “What- what are you doing?” 

 

He didn't hear Todd get up, and he doesn't even flinch when he turns on the light, bathing the room in a bright fluorescence that doesn't match the anger boiling in his chest as he keeps scrubbing, ignoring him altogether. He can’t explain it to him, he doesn’t  _ want _ to. There’s nothing he can do anyway, he just has to keep going until it’s out. Until it’s all gone. Until he can pretend it was never here at all. 

 

“Hey,  _ hey _ ,” Todd's voice is soft but his hands are strong as they wrap around his wrists and tug him away from the water. He tries to pull away, but Todd just holds tighter, and for the first time in his life Dirk feels like he might actually try to hit him if he doesn't let go. He doesn’t  _ understand _ , he  _ needs _ to do this. 

 

“Let go of me,” he sounds far more panicked than he’d expected, even to his own ears, and Todd doesn’t look any happier for it. He hates the way he looks almost…sad. He doesn’t  _ need _ his sadness, he doesn’t need his  _ pity _ . Why is it the one time  _ Dirk _ is angry is the one time Todd  _ isn’t _ ?

 

“ _ Dirk _ -” 

 

Dirk just shakes his head and pulls back against his hold, trying to sound as angry as he feels. He  _ does _ feel angry. “I said let  _ go  _ of me!”

 

“Stop,  _ stop _ . Dirk-” he’s worried, Dirk can tell, but right now he doesn’t even  _ care _ as long as he can just get that fucking  _ scent _ out of his clothes where it can’t make him feel like he’s suffocating.

 

“Let go! Let  _ go _ of me, just-”

 

Todd doesn't, because he's stubborn, and it turns out to be the right thing to do when Dirk’s protests catch in his throat and he chokes on a sob, trembling even as he tries desperately to twist his wrists out of Todd's grip because he has to, he  _ has  _ to.

 

“Please let go,” he asks, voice little more than a whisper as he shakes his head and tries to pretend there aren't tears streaming down his face. “Please.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Todd nods his head, eyes wide with worry, brow furrowed in concern as he eases his grip, standing in between Dirk and the sink like he's worried he might lunge for it again. “I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't- you were going to hurt yourself. You  _ were _ hurting yourself and I didn't-”

 

Dirk’s lower lip trembles, shaking his head as he fists his hands in the old band t-shirt Todd had been wearing to bed and buries his face into his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, clinging onto him as much as he can. “I'm sorry,  _ I'm sorry _ ,” he can't stop saying it, trembling against him even when Todd shushes him, wrapping his arms around him and brushing his fingers through the short, soft hair at the back of his head.

 

“Shh,” he tells him, rocking them ever so slightly in a way that seems practiced even though he's never done it with him before. “You're okay. You haven't done anything wrong.”

 

Dirks laugh is weak and bitter, tightening his grip on him. “I lied to you, and I woke you up, and I  _ upset _ you,” he's surprised the words make sense with the way his breath is hitching, but Todd just sighs and pulls him in closer.

 

“I don't care that you woke me up,” he promises, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You- you're more upset than I am, I’m just worried about you.”

 

“I still lied.”

 

“About what?”

 

“I said I'd come to bed.”

 

Todd huffs out a breath of laughter that ruffles his hair, “that's okay. I forgive you.”

 

Dirk squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Todd shoulder hard enough that he starts to see stars behind his eyelids, holding his breath like it might make it all go away. 

 

They stay there for a while, Todd swaying them gently and humming something under his breath while Dirk tries his best to get his breathing under control. Todd rubs his back and shushes him whenever he tries to apologise or the sobbing picks up again, Dirk has no idea how much time has passed before the room falls quiet around them. 

 

“What happened?” Todd asks eventually, words soft in a way that Dirk knows means he'd accept if he didn't want to talk about it. The feeling in his chest swells and threatens to overwhelm him, but he can feel the need to get it out like a physical ache, knowing if he doesn’t it’ll just get worse.

 

“I opened it,” he whispers back after a while. “I- they-” he shakes his head, Todd tightens the arm he has around his waist and spreads his legs a little more so Dirk can fit better against him. “I thought they'd- they took them. And I thought they'd destroyed them because- because they didn't  _ use _ them but… they just  _ had  _ them. And now they're here. And they're  _ supposed _ to smell like  _ you  _ but they don't because… they just smell like…” he swallows heavily, nuzzling in close. “It’s… It’s  _ stupid _ .”

 

“Okay.” Todd sounds tired, he realises abruptly, but he turns to press a kiss to Dirk’s temple anyway. “Is that why… you were doing the… thing? With the water?”

 

Dirk nods, and it’s starting to feel silly now, like he may have overreacted. “I know it’s… I shouldn’t have… I don’t know what happend. I just-” he’s working himself up again and Todd shakes his head. 

 

“We have a washer, you know.” Dirk would be insulted at the insinuation that he never does any laundry, the fact that he  _ doesn’t _ notwithstanding, but he’s too tired to argue about it now, feeling more worn out than he has in weeks. 

 

“I needed it gone. It wasn’t quick enough.”

 

“Alright. I mean… I’m pretty sure you’ll ruin the leather by putting it through the washer, and I don’t know how much the water messed it up, but we can put the shirt through at least, and take the jacket for dry cleaning? I know it’s not right now but… it might help.”

 

Dirk is suddenly struck with an overwhelming surge of just how very  _ much _ he loves Todd Brotzman. It’s not something he knows how to deal with right now, not this tired and shaken up, not when their relationship is still new, but he presses in just a little closer like Todd might be able to get the message that way. 

 

“It won’t smell like you,” because that’s what had hit him the most, more than just the smell of that  _ place _ , but the realisation that it had taken a part of his family, a part of  _ Todd,  _ away from him.

 

Todd is here now though. Real, and present, and warm, pressing a smile into his hair where Dirk is hunched over to cling to him. “I’ll wear it afterwards. For like, a week, if you want. It’ll be gross.”

 

He huffs out a weak breath of laughter, even though the thought of Todd doing that for him makes him feel all kinds of warm, filling up all the spaces left empty by his crying. “You admit it then?”

 

“What?”

 

“That wearing the same item of clothing for multiple days when you have the option not to is gross?”

 

Todd rolls his eyes, and says what he always says. “It’s good for the environment.”

 

Dirk isn’t quite tired enough that he forgets how to counter. “It’s  _ lazy _ .”

 

Todd hums noncommittally, and Dirk takes it as a win. “You going to be okay?” the concern is still there in his voice, but lessened somewhat now Dirk has calmed down. 

 

“I… I think I need to sleep. For a week. Or a month, maybe. And then…” he trails off, unsure he wants to think about it. 

 

“Then?” 

 

Dirk sighs, shaking his head. “Then I can work out how to deal with the rest of it.”

 

There’s a moment of silence while Todd shifts, moving to encourage Dirk to stand back so he can look at his face, blotchy and tear stained as it is. “Not until you’re ready.”

 

He bites his lip, but he doesn’t look away. Todd is watching him carefully, like he’s ready to argue if Dirk tries to contradict him. “What if I’m never ready? I can’t just…  _ leave _ it.” It’s a real fear of his and it must show, because Todd softens, pressing their heads together in apology. 

 

“Then… when you feel like you can. And… a little at a time. As much as you want but… not too much, okay? I don’t-” Todd struggles with the words for a moment, like he’s not sure how to phrase his thoughts. “Look. I know… I know it’s gonna be shitty. But I don’t want you to get hurt. Which… I guess it’s kinda inevitable, but if we can- I don’t know, minimise it? I’m not- I’m not saying you can’t handle it or anything like that,” because Dirk is one of the strongest people Todd has ever met in his life really, “I just want you to be careful.”

 

Dirk releases his death grip on Todd’s shirt so he can lace their fingers together. “I know,” he promises, because he  _ does _ know that Todd worries about him. He can have a strangely reserved and grumpy way of showing it at times but he always  _ does _ . “Can-can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m- I don’t even know what time it is,” he laughs. 

 

“It was four am when I got up,” Todd tells him, standing up onto his toes to press a soft kiss to Dirk’s forehead, a reversal of their usual roles for that particular gesture. “Go on. Bed. I’ll…” he tilts his head towards the sink, not sure  _ what _ he’s going to do about it, but it’ll be  _ something _ . “I won’t be long.”

 

Dirk nods, offering a soft, tired smile as he lets him go. Todd catches his wrist before he can get too far though, and he turns back, raising his eyebrow curiously. 

 

“I-” Todd looks vaguely panicked, like he hadn’t thought this course of action through entirely, but he sets his shoulders anyway in the familiar way that tells Dirk he intends to follow through. Then he does something Dirk can’t make any sense of at all, by stripping off his shirt and holding it out to him before he can think twice about it. 

 

“Todd?” he asks, clearly puzzled by the gesture even as Todd flushes and looks away, his sudden burst of determination dwindling. 

 

“I- It’s not the same but…” he shrugs, sheepish. “It’ll smell like me?”

 

This time Dirk feels like crying for an entirely different reason. 

 

“ _ Oh _ . Right. Yes, of course, that’s…” he can’t find the words he’s looking for, and curses his own inability to be articulate right when he  _ actually _ needs it. Todd is fidgeting, like he’s regretting his decision and it’s enough to shake him out of it as he takes the shirt from him and leans in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

 

He shrugs, trying to brush it off like always and the familiarity of the gesture makes Dirk smile. Some things in his life are consistent now, he needs to hold onto that. 

 

“Don’t be too long.”

 

Todd nods his agreement, tilting his head towards the door with a fond smile. “Go on. I’ll be right there .”

 

Dirk offers him a smile of his own, making his way through to the bedroom and throwing his clothes into the corner to be dealt with later once he’s stripped them off. He pulls Todd’s t-shirt on over his head, still warm and smelling just like him, but he steals his pillow too just for good measure. He’s determined to stay awake until Todd comes back to bed, but it isn’t long before the last few hours catch up with him, and eventually he drifts off to the sound of him cleaning up the kitchen, content to know he’ll be here soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title may be subject to change, and the best way to keep updated with this fic is to subscribe to it (or me, or both) and you'll get a little alert when I post something.
> 
> Comments will make me write faster, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I hope you like it, I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope to see you, and Farah, in Chapter 3.


	3. The sun behind the clouds.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much he wants to help, Todd isn't sure he's particularly suited to it. He'd promised Dirk he wouldn't have to do this alone and he'd meant it, but somewhere in there he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone in helping him either. Things always feel more hopeful when their family is back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's me again. This chapter took longer than I thought it would (don't they always?) and I procrastinated posting it because I'm not 100% happy with it, but it was going nowhere just sitting in my docs so I figured the best thing to do was to just post it anyway and move on. 
> 
> Farah is here! And with her comes a brief reprieve from the angst. 
> 
> This fic will deal with PTSD and the aftermaths of trauma, I'll do my best to tag it accurately. Tags and characters will be updated as needed with each chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Todd had really underestimated how good it would feel to have Farah back.

 

He knows it's important to her, getting into some kind of routine with their new friends, keeping tabs on Lydia, trying to salvage what she can from before everything went to shit and rebuild from there, but it never feels quite right without her there. Unbalanced, he thinks, even with her regular check ins. It might be that her routines had become part of their lives as well, or just that having her around made it more likely that they'd actually get some work done, but having her home feels right. He thinks they might need her.

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him over the edge of her coffee cup. “If you two are… I don't even know what a domestic with you would look like, actually. I'm not sure I’d _want_ to, but…” she shrugs one shoulder, “I can tell something is wrong.”

 

Todd finds himself smiling a little, shaking his head as he considers his own mug, glancing over at the bedroom door behind which Dirk is soundly asleep despite the hour.

 

“It's not… it's nothing like that,” he promises, unsure where to start when he's not completely sure what's actually happening himself. “It's… worse? Bigger? I don't know, but it's… bad. It's bad.”

 

She frowns, losing the teasing edge to her questioning as she sits up straighter. “Are you okay? Is Dirk okay? Is anyone in danger? Did someone get hurt?” It's a rapid fire line of questioning and he holds his hand up to stop her before she can work herself up, not wanting to make her panic.

 

“Nobody's hurt,” he promises, “and… I don't think we're in any danger. It's just… look I don't even really _know_ what happened but… someone came looking for Dirk. Military.”

 

“Blackwing?”

 

“I… yeah. I think so. He… hasn't really said much about it but… the guy said it had shut down? He gave him a box full of stuff and said… I don't know, some weird shit about wanting to meet up and make amends or something, but Dirk…” he sighs heavily, shaking his head. “He had a panic attack, I guess. He… stopped breathing and then he got like, really paranoid it was- And then last night… I don't even know _what_ it was, some kind of anxiety attack? Some kind of… he opened the box and, I don't know. It got to him. He's not… he hasn't been sleeping well, so I don't want to wake him up.”

 

The room goes quiet around them, Farah watching the bedroom door while Todd stares at the floor.

 

“When did that happen?”

 

“Last week. He… was doing okay for a little bit before last night, or at least he was pretending to. He… you know how he is.”

 

“I should have been here,” she says after a moment, “I should have-”

 

“Don't,” he tells her, soft with it. “I think it was on purpose, coming round while you weren't here. And I… I was gonna punch him, to be honest, but I don't think Dirk needed that and, I don't know. He didn't seem to want to hurt him.” Not physically, anyway. Todd can't deny that Dirk _was_ hurt by it. “Besides, you're here now. It's… good to have you back. And I think it'll help.”

 

She nods, decisive, but he can tell she's touched by the words. He wonders if he needs to get better at telling her how important she is to them.

 

“What about you?”

 

He frowns, confused. “What about me?”

 

“How are you… you know, handling it?”

 

"I-" Todd shakes his head, sighing when Farah tilts hers questioningly at him. "I don't know how to help him," he admits, low and filled with regret. "I mean... I'm- I'm _trying_ but, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. He's just... he's not coping and I can _see_ him not coping even when he pretends he is, but I don't know what to do about it because it's not like... whenever I ask him he just says he's fine and... I don't know. Sometimes I want to just... but I don't want to start an argument and I'm trying to-" he cuts himself off with a self deprecating laugh, because god knows trying isn't the same as achieving.

 

"I'm trying to be _patient_ . And I'm trying to give him what he needs, but I don't even know what that is and he won't _tell_ me." His hands grip his mug tightly, the remainder of his coffee already gone cold as he stares into it like it will distract from the fact he's tearing up. "Maybe I'm... I don't know. Selfish? Well, I _am_ that's... but this is isn't about me, it's about him and I don't want to be selfish I just want- I want to help. I want-" he closes his eyes tightly, clenches his jaw as if he's trying to keep the words back. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night  and he's just... crying. And it's _quiet_ you know? In a... a really bad way," he swallows heavily with the admission. "I don't know how to fix that."

 

Farah stalls, she's no better at this kind of thing than he is, in all honesty she thinks she might be worse. It doesn't mean she doesn't want to help though, it certainly doesn't mean she doesn't care, even if she's not quite found a good way to express it yet.  
  
"I-" she starts, hesitant and careful with her words. "I don't think you can fix it, Todd. I don't think you _need_ to? Just... be there. For him. I know it's not- it might not feel like much, or anything really but- I think the best thing we can do is just be there, and when... _if_ he wants to talk about it with us then... he knows he can."  
  
The prospect of Dirk actually talking about it is both relieving and terrifying, and Todd can tell that Farah feels the same. The promise of him opening up and getting out whatever it is he's stowing away in his head is a good one, but the fear of being inadequate in their reactions, in not being able to help, in _letting him down_ ? It's almost too much to bear.  
  
"I'm worried about him," he tells her. She just smiles sadly.  
  
"We both are. But... he knows, doesn't he? Do you think he... I'm not very good at- or maybe I'm just not used to... telling people things that I could, _should_ tell them. Do you think..." somehow watching her stutter around her thoughts makes him relax a little, glad he's not the only one who feels like he's going to utterly fail at this.

 

"He knows," he promises. "We both know. You... you know too, right?" Suddenly worried that while it's something he says often to Dirk, their relationship is different and it might not be so obvious to Farah.  
  
She just raises an eyebrow at him. "You're not as subtle with it as you think you are."  
  
"Yeah, that's..." he huffs a soft breath of laughter, shaking his head at the realisation that while having people _know_ he cares about them might once have been something he'd want to keep secret, he no longer feels the need to withdraw from it entirely. "Good."  
  
"You're not- helping him isn't something you're doing on your own. Dirk… he has a lot of people who care about him. We all want to. We're all _going_ to," she reassures him, the familiar determination he knows he can rely on is so clear in her face. "He's... we've got each other, okay? If that means right now he needs us to have his back then that's what we'll do. It'll just... take some time."  
  
He nods, knowing she's right and feeling some of the tension in his chest unravel.  
  
"Guess we're gonna have to be careful not to fuck it up, huh? We’d never hear the end of it." Farah rolls her eyes, but fixes him with a soft smile anyway.  
  
"We won't,” she says, and the surety in her voice is almost enough to make him believe it. He nods his agreement, settling back into the couch when he smiles over at her.

 

“So… how was Tina?” it's suggestive enough that he can see the way Farah flushes at his implication.

 

“Tina? Tina’s...fine, she was- she _is_ fine. She's…” she manages to shake off her initial flustered reaction to give an actual answer, “good, actually. She's been doing these talks at the school? All the kids love her.”

 

Todd snorts but it's fond, “yeah, I can see that.”

 

“They think she's cool, she has secret handshakes with half of them now. It might do some good, you know? Kids liking her, they won't want to get into trouble with her.”

 

“Or it'll make them do it more because they'll get away with it,” Todd argues.

 

Farah just snorts. “I don't need to ask which you'd be.”

 

“Hey! I never… it doesn't count if you don't get caught.”

 

She laughs, shaking her head. “If you say so.”

 

“Listen, some laws are _meant_ to be broken.”

 

“Uh huh,” her voice is dripping with sarcasm, “and what injustices were you protesting with your casual drug use?”

 

Todd flails for a moment, looking for answer. “The injustice of… having to be an active participant in a capitalist hellscape.”

 

She raises both of her eyebrows at him this time and he just shrugs.

 

“Realising you can't do the one thing that'll make you happy because you need money to live is a hard thing to come to terms with,” and god, that turned quickly, sometimes Todd wonders if it's even possible for him to have a casual conversation without making it depressing, he’s lucky Farah seems to have other things on her mind.

 

“Oh! Speaking of!” she leans over to search through her bag, “Tina wanted me to give you this.”

 

His brows furrow in confusion, but a minute she holds a CD out to him, and it’s enough to make him laugh when he sees the cover.

 

“ _Jesus_ , where did she dig this up?” he asks, taking it from her and flipping the case open. “We made like, maybe a hundred of these? They’re not even the official album.”

 

He’d lost most of his old band stuff when the Ridgely had been burnt to the ground, and while he’s sure there’s still some knocking around at his parents house, a CD full of Mexican Funeral demos is not something he’d expected to just show back up. It’s strange, he thinks, looking at the picture of them all together, younger, before everything went to shit. It feels like a completely different life now.

 

“She said she had a couple of them and she thought you might like one. She _also_ thought it would embarrass you, and that Dirk might want to hear it,” she smirks, knowing damn well he _would_ be embarrassed if any of them actually listened to it.

 

“Yeah, no. Dirk isn’t going to find out about this. He wouldn’t like it anyway.”

 

“Wouldn’t like what?”

 

They both look up to see Dirk in the doorway, sleep ruffled and yawning as he makes his way over to drop down on the couch next to Todd. Farah’s mouth twitches into a fond little smile as Todd turns absently to press a kiss to the top of his head.

 

“Tina gave Todd a copy of one of his albums,” Farah tells him, earning her a glare from Todd who had fully been intending to pass it off as something else.

 

“It’s…” he tries to think of how Dirk would describe the music. “ _Shouty_ and angry and you wouldn’t like it,” he argues, trying to stop the inevitable when Dirk perks up and reaches out to pluck the album from his hands.

 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he sets it aside happily, pressing a kiss to Todd’s cheek when he frowns. “It’s lovely to have you back, Farah. I'm assuming everyone is surviving without us?”

 

“Yeah. Hobbs wants you to come for a visit sometime, says he's got some… _Holistic stuff_ to show you. He's really gotten into that,” the tone of her voice tells them both exactly what she thinks of that, but it doesn't seem to bother Dirk in the slightest. In fact, the suggested combination of ‘Hobbs’, ‘Visit’, and ‘Holistic’ has him looking like he's about to bolt out the door to do just that right this second.

 

“Well yes! Of course! That sounds wonderful, _brilliant_ in fact, when should I-”

 

“Maybe try calling him first?” Todd suggests gently, not that he thinks Hobbs would be anything other than delighted to find Dirk randomly dropping onto his doorstep, but he'd like a little more planning at least.

 

Dirk scoffs at the idea, but he's stopped looking like he has to leave right this minute, and Todd is willing to count that as a win. He watches his face for a moment, noting that even though he still seems a little unsteady, he looks a lot better for the sleep.

 

“Right. I gotta go and-” he doesn't want to bring up last night, but he had every intention of taking the jacket to be dry cleaned and hopefully cleared of any long term damage today and the time to get that done is running out. He throws a quick glance at Farah. “-get some shit done. You gonna be okay?” It's not like he's leaving him alone, but he _worries_ , moreso when things are already so precariously balanced.

 

“I'm sure we will survive without you for a little while,” he promises, only a little teasing as Todd rolls his eyes and shrugs on his own jacket, digging through his pockets for the keys.

 

“Yeah, well if I come back to find the place destroyed I'll know who to blame.”

 

Dirks eyes go wide and he nods solemnly, “the Rowdy Three.”

 

Todd snorts, but it puts him at ease to see Dirk a little better. “Right. I won't be long,” he hesitates for a moment, aware of the fact that Farah is there now, but he leans over to steal a quick kiss from him anyway before he leaves, pulling the door shut in a rush behind him as if he's trying to put as much distance between them and himself as possible. Farah watches fondly as Dirk stares after him.

 

“You two are really getting into it, huh?” she asks, grinning when Dirk blushes bright red and looks at her with an expression that's some strange mix of undiluted joy and horror.

 

“I- well- yes I suppose you could say that. I mean we’ve- well _no_ we haven't actually-”

 

“Woah! No. No thank you. I don't-” her face is pinched and she looks for a moment like she's regretting her choice of words entirely. “I don't need to know about… _that_ . I just meant… you seem, you know, _happy_.”

 

“Oh,” Dirk’s blush has settled a little now but he still fidgets with his fingers, a little embarrassed. “Well… yes. We are. Or, _I_ am at least. I don't know if he's-” he frowns, second guessing himself. “Do- do you think he's…”

 

“Happy?” she finishes.

 

Dirk nods rapidly, he looks a little ill. “Yes.”

 

“He's happy. I mean, he's _Todd_. But yeah, Dirk. It's very obvious that he's happy.”

 

“Oh good,” Dirk breathes a sigh of relief, sinking down against the couch cushions as Farah shakes her head in wonder at the stupidity of asking such a thing. “That's- that's good. I just… he can be quite hard to read sometimes, can't he?”

 

“Dirk,” she says, the amusement filling her voice clearly now. “I think _anyone_ can tell he's head over heels for you. It's obvious. Even _he_ knows it's obvious. It's kind of…sweet.”

 

“Don't let him hear you call him that,” he warns, but he's clearly pleased with her assessment of the situation. Farah watches him carefully as he smiles down at his hands, unsure if now is a good time. Unsure if there will _ever_ be a good time.

 

“Todd… he told me. About what happened, while I was away.” She winces when the words come out blunter than she intended, but holds her ground when he looks up at her questioningly.

 

“About what?” it's avoidant, she knows that much, but she also knows they can't _not_ talk about it and from experience the longer it sits between them the more awkward it will be when the time comes.

 

“About Blackwing,” it's gentler this time, but Dirk still drops his gaze, smile slowly disappearing from his face.

 

“Ah. Yes. That.”

 

“I'm sorry I wasn't here.”

 

He shakes his head, “it's not like you _knew_.”

 

“I know. But I should have-”

 

“He wouldn't have dared come round with you here. He'd probably-” Dirk swallows heavily, “probably been watching for weeks trying to find the right time. It's… fine.”

 

And god she's no good at this. Dirk looks like he's closing himself off, body tense as he mentally puts up walls between them in the small space of the room. She doesn't know of she should let him or not. Doesn't know what to say either way.

 

“It's…” she sighs heavily, annoyed at her own incompetence. “If you don't want to talk about it then you don't have to. I'm not… _equipped_ to… be good at that. But if you _do_ want to, I'll be here. Even if I'm _terrible_ at it,” it's an awkward promise, but one she means all the same, and when Dirk softens just a little she knows she's done something right. “And… and it's not fine, Dirk. He came here, and he made you feel unsafe. I know it's… _different_ , but I understand what it feels like to have someone invade a space that's supposed to be safe for you. I know how much that can… make things difficult so. So I-” and here's where she really trips up, but the least she can do is _try_ , she wants to try, she knows he’d do the same for her. “I want you to know that- you _are_ safe here, Dirk. I'm… not good at much, and I know I wasn't much use when Lydia- or the last time you were- or with the whole Wendimoor thing that was-” she takes a deep breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. Steady herself. “But I am not willing to let anything happen to you here. You or Todd. And I don't think Todd is going to let anything happen either. You… we care about you. And whatever this is… we- we have a family now. A little… a mess. Of a family. We’re a mess. But it's worth protecting. I'm going to do that.”

 

There’s a horrifying moment where Farah abruptly realises that Dirk is _crying_ , and that she’s not sure if it’s _good_ crying or _bad_ crying, and that knowing either way would hardly be helpful when she has no idea how to deal with that at all.

 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment, shaking his head as he brushes away the tears before she can find the right way to react. “My eyes seem to be doing that a lot lately, _without_ my permission I might add. It’s terribly inconsiderate of them.”

 

“No, no it’s… fine,” her hands hover uncertainly, feeling like maybe she should hug him even though she’s not sure it would be any more than awkward at best. She settles for placing her hand over his, a little nervously herself. “You’ve… it’s a lot. It’s… whatever you need.”

 

He smiles at that, turning his hand under hers to lace their fingers together and squeeze gently. It surprises her, but it’s not unwelcome. She finds herself squeezing back.

 

“You’re a good friend, Farah. We’re lucky to have you,” it’s sincere, the way it always is whenever he says things like that. Farah often finds herself wondering how it is that she got caught up in all this, how it is that of all the ways none of them should ever have met, let alone become close, Dirk had somehow managed to bring them altogether. Even if he _can_ drive her to the brink of insanity at times she’ll never not be thankful for it.

 

“We’re… lucky to have each other,” it’s the most she can give him right now, but he smiles anyway, nodding his understanding.

 

“I do… I feel _safer_ now that you’re here,” he admits, quiet as anything as he stares at their hands. He looks vulnerable. “Not that I didn’t feel safe with Todd just… it’s different. You’re, well. _You_ .”  
  
She’s not quite sure what to say to that, a surge of pride and protectiveness welling up in her chest. All she’s ever really wanted is to keep people safe, the thought that she _actually_ inspires that feeling in someone is a lot to take in. It’s easy to forget sometimes, that she’d found a place to be, people she fits with, but it’s never more obvious than in moments like this.

 

“Well I’m not going anywhere for a while,” she promises decisively, making plans to double check her calendar and rearrange if that proves to be untrue. “But I think maybe for now we could… try not to dwell on it?” she feels like a hypocrite saying it, but Dirk really _does_ look tired. She can only imagine the whirlwind of thoughts in his head whenever the topic comes up.

 

“Yes,” he agrees, sitting up a little straighter and turning his eclectic attentions back to the CD case he’d plucked from Todd’s hands, turning it over thoughtfully. “Have you listened to it already?”

 

“I-” Farah shifts in her seat, pulling back from him and blushing with her guilt. It’s enough to give him an answer. “Tina played it for me, yes.”

 

Dirk’s eyes light up, leaning in with what she can only call mischievous intrigue. “ _And_? What did you think?”

 

“It's… not my taste. But it's… good? As far as I can tell. Music was never really my… _thing_. He's right though, you won't like it.”

 

“It's _Todd_ ,” he informs her, like she's somehow forgotten this most important fact, “how could I possibly _not_ like it?”

 

“It’s…” she shrugs. “Not your type of music?”

 

“I’ll have you know I like _many_ kinds of music.”

 

“Do you like any of _Todd’s_ music?” she challenges, with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer.

 

“It’s… _fine_.”

 

“You hate it.”

 

“I do _not_! I just… prefer other things.”

 

“It’s okay to say you hate it,” Farah laughs, “he’s not here.”

 

Dirk looks around like he might be hiding under one of the chairs, ready to jump out and lecture him at the mere suggestion that his music taste might be bad.

 

“It’s a bit… _loud_ . And not very fun,” he admits after a moment. “But I’m sure this will be different. It actually _is_ Todd.”

 

Farah hums, unconvinced but willing to let him have it. “The guitar is loud, but the singing is-”

 

Dirk’s head shoots up to look at her wide-eyed, “he _sings_?”

 

“I- yeah, Dirk. I thought you knew he was the front man?”

 

“I didn’t know that meant he was _singing_ ! He’s never sung to _me_ ,” he seems to be affronted by this, and Farah watches with amusement as he pries the CD case open to look at it like it holds the worlds greatest treasure.

 

He stares at it for a moment like he’s unsure what to do, and if Farah hadn’t seen him with one before now she wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that he’d never seen a CD before.

 

“Open the book in the front cover,” she suggest, smirking because she knows Todd will _never_ hear the end of it. Dirk looks up at her quizzically before doing as he’s told, and she doesn’t have to wait long for the pay off.

 

“ _Oh my god._ ”

 

“ _Right_?” she joins in, trying not to laugh.

 

“Oh my- _Farah_ . Look at his _hair_!”

 

She leans in to look again, giggling along with him at the sight of Todd, significantly younger than he is now, with his hair dyed blue and spiked up in a look that she’s _sure_ went down well at the time, but now just looks ridiculous. Along with the rest of his questionable mid-2000’s punk get up and the ever-present middle finger it makes for _quite_ a picture.

 

“Do you think we could get him to do it again?” Dirk asks, seemingly unsure whether to be delighted or horrified by the sight, but taken by it all the same. “Do you think there are _more_ of these pictures?”

 

Todd would hate her if he ever found out, but the look on Dirk’s face and the thought of how funny it would be to see him pissed about it has her shrugging and suggesting in a tone that implies _you didn’t get this idea from me_ ; “maybe you should ask Amanda.”

 

“Farah,” he says, serious as anything when he looks at her, pulling out his phone. “You’re a _genius_.”

 

***

 

When Todd comes back an hour or so later it’s to the sight of Dirk and Farah hunched over Dirk’s phone, red faced and giggling on the couch. It’s not an unwelcome sight, but it leaves him feeling a bit bemused when the first thing both of them do when they look at him is burst into another round of laughter.

 

“Do I _want_ to know?” he asks, even though he’s already fighting off a smile. Farah shakes her head, pressing a hand over her mouth even though her eyes are bright with mirth, and Dirk just waves his phone in his direction.

 

“ _Todd_ -” he manages through his laughter. “You…” he shakes his head, unable to do anything more than hand his phone over and watch the way the colour drains from Todd’s face when he sees what it is that they’re laughing at.

 

“What- where the _fuck_ did you-” he cuts himself off with a groan. “ _Amanda_.”

 

Apparently this is enough to set them off again, and Todd wants to be angry, he _does_ , but no matter how much he wishes it wasn’t at his expense it’s the biggest relief he’s felt all week to see Dirk laughing again. He tries his hardest not to smile with them.

 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Farah manages after a moment. “It’s just- you- you look like-”

 

“ _A grumpy pink hedgehog_ ,” Dirk informs him when he catches his breath.

 

“Yeah well,” he grumbles, still a little put out at the appearance of pictures he’d hoped had long since been lost. “It was cool at the time,” Todd can’t find it in himself to do anything but shrug, blush rising to his cheeks as he does.

 

“Oh I’m sure,” Dirk agrees, attempting seriousness even though his attempt at a straight face is laughable at best. “You’re _very_ cool, Todd.”

 

Todd huffs, picking up a cushion from the couch and throwing it at them. “What would you know about it, _losers_ .” He’s laughing too now though, giving up on trying to be mad about it and dropping down onto the couch between them, smacking Dirk with the cushion again. “I was cooler than _both_ of you.”

 

“And we’re very proud of you,” Farah grins at him, fond more than mocking.

 

Dirk sighs out the last of his laughter as he cuddles back into his side, Farah eyeing them like she’s debating whether or not she should leave them to it.

 

“You should stay,” he tells her, before she can make her excuses. “We’ll get take-out.”

 

“Pizza,” Dirk insists, looking over at her hopefully from his place on Todd’s shoulder.

 

“Pizza,” Todd concedes, agreeable. “You can tell us what other shit you got up to. Dirk can tell you how he cheated at cards.”

 

“How I _won_ at cards,” he corrects. “There was _no_ cheating.”

 

Todd rolls his eyes out of Dirk’s view and she smiles, relaxing back into her seat, decision made.

 

“I suppose it would be okay to stay a while,” she agrees.

 

“Yeah,” Todd finds himself smiling, knocking their shoulders together as he settles, it feels for the first time since it happened like they might have a chance of getting through this. “We missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title may be subject to change, and the best way to keep updated with this fic is to subscribe to it (or me, or both) and you'll get a little alert when I post something.
> 
> Comments will make me write faster, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I hope you like it, I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope to see you for Chapter 4.


	4. It's supposed to be bulletproof.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The incomprehension on his face lasts longer than he thinks it should, but it slowly ticks over into realisation, and Todd doesn’t get chance to say anything before Dirk registers what had happened. His eyes go wide, and he pulls his hands out of Todd’s grip as hastily as he can manage, looking some mix of guilty, embarrassed and vaguely ill as he scrambles to extract himself from the covers and bolts for the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This was meant to be up in December, but that month got far too busy and ran away from me entirely, so it's appearing now. This chapter and the next chapter were originally going to be one, but I split them into two after much debating with myself (and some others). It might leave the next chapter a little shorter, but I think it works better on balance this way. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll shut up now! I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> This fic will deal with PTSD and the aftermaths of trauma, I'll do my best to tag it accurately. Tags and characters will be updated as needed with each chapter.

Dirk’s nightmares are silent. 

He sleeps in a way Todd suspects is a learned behaviour, a way that no matter how often he sees it appears entirely unnatural and fits him all wrong. It’s something he’s getting used to, but it still unnerves him from time to time, because he doesn’t move at _all_ , and sometimes Todd’s paranoia drives him to check that he’s still breathing, having taken to sleeping with his head on his chest where he can feel his heartbeat. More unnerving than that though is that at some point in time Dirk had managed to teach himself to live out his terror silently, and it makes Todd feel enraged and helpless in equal measure. Dirk’s nightmares leave him with wet cheeks and red eyes, occasionally little hitches of his breath but never anything more, and if he wakes up he makes no sound at all. Todd has no idea how many nightmares Dirk has had since they started sharing a bed, because even with him sleeping on him the way he does, it’s incredibly rare Todd is aware of them enough to be woken by him when they happen. If he does notice, it’s because he wakes up first and catches the tell-tale sign of dried tear tracks on his cheeks, or because Dirk extracts himself from under Todd’s clinging to go to the bathroom and wakes him up in the process. 

It’s something Todd has considered _telling_ him to wake him up for, especially when Todd’s own nightmares are nothing like Dirk’s and he _always_ wakes him when he has them, if they’re particularly bad he wakes up screaming, and on the _worst_ occasions he wakes up out of a nightmare and into a pararibulitis attack. Compared to him, Dirk is so silent Todd sometimes wonders if he even knows he’s had one when he opens his eyes. Which is why when Dirk wakes up screaming, he knows that whatever it is he’d seen it had been _bad_.

It takes him a minute to find his bearings after jolting awake. Confused and blurry-eyed, and by the time he’s worked out _why_ there’s even screaming in the first place it’s subsided into little more than panicked breathing where Dirk has curled up next to the headboard. 

It doesn’t make him worry any less. 

“Dirk?” he asks softly, trying his best to give him space while he waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room.

“Where am I?” he sounds like a frightened child and it twists uncomfortably in Todd’s stomach, _wrong_ in a way that feels tangible. He knows he’s going to have to be careful with this, whatever _this_ is, and he takes a breath to steady himself. He’ll have time to panic later. 

“In your- _our_ bedroom. In our apartment, above the agency-” he blanks for a moment, “-in Seattle?” 

Dirk doesn’t say anything, and it’s starting to freak him out, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and the occasional hitching sob in the dark. Todd swallows heavily. 

“I’m- I’m gonna turn on the light so you can see where you are, okay?” 

He still doesn’t get a response, and every minute Dirk isn’t responding to him is a minute the worry in his chest has to build up until it threatens to overwhelm him. He makes the decision to follow through anyway, because someone has to do something. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna… put the light on so just-” he shakes his head, leaning over to flick the switch on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room around them in a soft, yellow glow. “Dirk?”

Dirk has his eyes screwed shut, but Todd doesn’t know if it’s against the lights or if he just hasn’t opened his eyes at all yet. He wants to reach out for him, but not knowing how it would be received he doesn’t dare. 

“You’re okay,” he tells him instead, hoping to _god_ that’s true. “Do- could you open your eyes?” 

He stays silent, and for a horrible moment Todd wonders what will happen if he just never speaks again, but then he shakes his head the smallest amount, pressing his lips into a thin white line and ducking his chin towards his chest. In the light Todd can see where the tears are still flowing freely out from under his eyelids, and he wants nothing more than to be able to brush them away. 

“Um-” because this is the kind of thing he’s _never_ had to deal with before, and he doesn’t know what to do if Dirk won’t even _look_ at him. Unless the reason he won’t is something he can fix. “I… can you tell me why not?”

He’s met with more silence, and bites back his frustration because if there’s one thing he knows it’s that yelling at Dirk won’t do any good. But then he speaks, a rushed whisper that makes him sound like he’s trying not to be heard. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Go?” he asks, frowning in confusion. “I’m… I’m not going _anywhere_ , you- why do you think I’ll go?”

He screws his eyes closed tighter, shaking his head again. “Because you’re not here.”

“I-” Todd looks down at his hands, he’s _definitely_ here, but… he thinks back to the first thing Dirk had said to him when he’d woken up and something clicks into place. “Dirk,” he starts, as softly as he can manage. “Where do you think you are?”

He whimpers, and it’s not a name or a place but it’s enough for Todd to _know_ where he’s at in his head. Enough for him to know he has to get him to open his eyes. 

“You’re not there, okay? You’re- you’re here. With me. You’re safe. Do you- can I touch you?” Todd is wary of making it worse, but Dirk only nods the smallest amount, like he doesn’t believe Todd will manage to touch him. 

“Okay, I’m- I’m going to take your hands now. If you want me to stop just… shake your head?” he reaches out to curl his fingers around where Dirk’s fists are curled into the covers. He jolts at the touch, but Todd doesn’t pull back, stroking his thumbs along his knuckles when his breathing starts to pick up. 

“You’re okay,” he tells him again, keeping hold of their one small point of contact like it’s a lifeline. “I- I need you to open your eyes, Dirk. I promise I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“I-” Dirk is trembling, he can _feel_ it, but he doesn’t want to touch him until he knows Dirk is okay with it. “You’re here?” 

“Yeah, yeah Dirk I’m here.” It’s supposed to be reassuring but if anything Dirk seems to panic more. 

“No. No, you- you can’t be here Todd you- _here_ is- you _can’t-”_

“ _Dirk-_ ” he shakes his head helplessly as Dirk rambles on in a series of ‘no’s’ and ‘can'ts’. “Dirk, just- we’re safe. I _promise_ , and I wouldn’t-” he swallows thickly, unsure if his next words are even going to be true. “I wouldn’t _lie_ to you. You- you trust me, don’t you?”

There’s a horrifying moment where Todd thinks Dirk might actually say no, fairly certain that it would rip Todd’s foundations out from underneath him if he did. Eventually though Dirk nods, tiny and barely there but enough for Todd to latch onto. 

“I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me? You can close them again right after if you want, I just… I need you to see something, okay?”

He feels Dirk’s grip on the sheets tighten beneath his hands, and it feels like he waits for an eternity before he _finally_ opens his eyes. Just the smallest amount at first, and then blinking them open when he sees Todd, staring at the room around him in confusion. 

The incomprehension on his face lasts longer than he thinks it should, but it slowly ticks over into realisation, and Todd doesn’t get chance to say anything before Dirk registers what had happened. His eyes go wide, and he pulls his hands out of Todd’s grip as hastily as he can manage, looking some mix of guilty, embarrassed and vaguely ill as he scrambles to extract himself from the covers and bolts for the bathroom. 

“Dirk, _wait_!” he calls as he tries to follow after him, but it’s too late. The sound of the bolt sliding into place echoes loudly in the quiet of the room, and Todd stares at the door firmly locked in his face. He doesn’t think Dirk could send a clearer message about trying to keep him out, even if he can’t for the life of him work out _why_.

There’s a part of him that wants to bang his fist against the door until he opens it, or beats it down altogether, but that mostly speaks from the hopeless part of him that _knows_ there’s nothing he can do. That the window he _could_ have helped had closed before he managed it. That he’d _failed._

“Dirk?” 

There’s no answer, and Todd stares resolutely at the painted wood in front of him. It’s something else he doesn’t understand, something else he might not be _able_ to understand, and ironically enough the one person who might be able to give him some insight into how to help Dirk is Dirk himself, which given the current situation seems unlikely. 

No matter how much he reminds himself it’s not _about_ him, Todd can’t help but feel hurt by it. He’s confused by Dirk’s response, frustrated at his _lack_ of response. Angry at himself for not being able to help, angry at the world for the reasons Dirk even _needs_ help, angry at _Dirk_ for not _letting_ him help. Or not wanting him to. He doesn’t know which is worse. But he does _want_ Dirk to get help, even if it’s not from him, no matter how much he wants it to be. 

He’s trying, but it doesn’t feel like enough, and he doesn’t think it’s about to get any easier. He just wishes there was a way to acknowledge that it’s difficult for him to do this without feeling like the selfish, guilty, _bastard_ he’s trying not to be. 

“I’ll be out here. If you… want anything.”

If Dirk wants space then he can give him that, some small amount at least, no matter how shitty turning away from the door makes him feel.

***

By the time Dirk re-emerges Farah is pacing the floor of their living room, unable to keep herself still. He’d called her, after he’d spent a good few minutes trying and failing not to cry at the realisation that he hadn’t managed to help Dirk at all, and she’d turned up not twenty minutes later looking about as panicked as he’d felt. He hadn’t needed to say much. 

In the time since then, Todd had managed to accept he wouldn’t be going back to sleep today and gotten dressed, Farah had obsessively checked the windows and exists _just to be safe_ , and between them they’d managed to drink six cups of coffee. He knows she’s just as worried as he is, and somehow it makes him feel better just having her here to worry with him. She hadn’t tried to get Dirk out of the bathroom, despite how much Todd _knows_ she’s itching to break it down. It won’t help, he tells himself when he has the same thought. _We_ won’t help. 

Her head snaps up when the bedroom door opens, Todd’s following rather more warily, because no matter how much he’d been trying to prepare for the aftermath, now that it’s here he’s not sure he’s ready.

“Oh! Hello Farah, it’s a little early for you to be here isn’t it? Did we have plans? If we did I’ve forgotten them, I’ve been…” he trails off when he catches sight of Todd, averting his eyes before they can meet. It makes his stomach feel hollow, but he can’t stop staring.

Dirk is dressed. 

Dirk is dressed, and he’s dressed about as _perfectly_ as he ever can be. He’s clearly showered, and his hair is set in place just _so_ in the way that Todd knows he likes, when he can get it to stay and keep everything else from messing it up. His shirt is buttoned, tie knotted and sitting in a perfect straight line down his front, the tiny little dogs that decorate it matching perfectly to the brown jeans he’d recently bought to replace the other ones that had suffered an unfortunate demise at the hands (or rather, _claws_ ) of a small, angry cat. His shoes are shiny, as is his jacket, the green one, because it’s a wednesday, hanging neatly off his shoulders. He looks polished, _perfect_ , and any other time Todd would appreciate the sight. 

Right now though…

“What the _hell_?” 

Dirk’s shoulders tense, slight enough that it would have gone unnoticed were Todd not watching him so closely. He recovers quickly enough.

“Oh! I assume that means we _did_ have plans. Terribly sorry, I wouldn’t have taken so long if-”

“No. _No_ , I’m sorry this is just- what the _fuck_ , Dirk?” 

“ _Todd_.” Farah’s voice is warning, trying to mediate the tension that had sprung up at his outburst and he _immediately_ feels guilty for it. He’s worried, he’s _scared_ , and he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to express it, he never has. He wants to fight whatever it is that’s hurting Dirk, except there’s nothing _to_ fight and he doesn’t know what to _do_ when he can’t beat it back, can’t stand between him and it to keep it away. 

He _definitely_ can’t do it when Dirk won't even _admit_ something is wrong. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, even though he’s not really. For the tension? Sure. For upsetting Dirk? Absolutely. But no matter how he tries he can't bring himself to be sorry that he’s angry, no matter the reason. 

“I- What I think Todd meant is… Is everything… _okay_?” 

Dirk blinks, and then plasters on his fake smile, like they don’t _know_ him well enough not to be fooled by now. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Farah glances back at Todd for help, he doesn’t know why because all he can do is shrug slightly. 

“I…” she starts, tripping over the words already. “Well. We just… worry about you.” 

Dirk’s face flips through a complicated series of emotions, settling inevitably on the not quite there but begging to be believed fake smile he likes to wear when he’s pushing everything away.

“Well, thank you for your concern, but I’m _fine_.” 

Drop it. He wants them to drop it. _Farah_ looks like she’d be more relieved if they dropped it. 

Dirk is clearly hurting. Todd _can’t_ drop it. 

“ _Bullshit_.”

“I’m sorry?” Dirk glances to Farah like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. But it’s an act. It’s _all_ an act. And it’s not that Todd _wants_ Dirk to be distressed, or upset, or angry, but he wants him to be _something_ that isn’t some kind of show he's putting on in an attempt to convince them he’s fine. He doesn’t want him to feel like he has to _pretend_. Not with them. 

“How the _fuck_ are you fine?”

“Todd-”

“No. Don’t- Farah, don’t tell me you buy this? He- You’re doing that… _thing_.”

Dirk laughs, but it’s obvious that he’s starting to pull into himself, trying to keep it together as Farah glances anxiously between them. 

“Thing? Todd, I don’t know what you’re-”

“You’re not okay! You- for fucks sake Dirk, you woke up… I don’t even _know_ what. You locked yourself in the bathroom for _hours_ , and then you just, what? Come out here and expect us to believe that everything is fine? You can’t even look at me!” 

“Todd,” Farah casts a panicked look at him, “I _really_ don’t think-”

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Dirk steps forwards this time, ignoring Farah’s protest and it does nothing to stop the helpless anger building inside of him because this time _Dirk_ looks pissed and this? This is something Todd knows how to do. “Was there a way I could have handled it that could have been more _convenient_ for you?” 

“Con- You think this is about being _convenient_? You think _that’s_ what I’m- No. _No_ , this is about _you_. This is- Pretending everything is okay won’t make it okay, Dirk! You can’t just come out here and say you’re fine when it’s obviously not true!”

“So what? I should… spend my days crying in a corner? Decide to stay in all day and do nothing, just wallow in misery until I forget how to do anything else? How _exactly_ would that help, because _this_ has been working so far and I’d _love_ to know if you think you have a better way of dealing with something _you don’t even understand_!”

An angry Dirk is not something Todd sees often, and it’s enough to give him pause. Long enough that Farah can interject before he can say anything to make it worse. 

“We don’t understand,” she tells him, still on edge but a lot calmer than Todd had managed to be. “We-”

“We don’t understand because you won’t _tell_ us,” he backs off when Farah glares at him, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Todd is- I think… I think we _all_ feel a little frustrated. But I think what Todd is trying to say is that… maybe you should speak to someone. Even if it’s not _us_. We- we have _good reason_ to be worried about you, Dirk. You _know_ that. We’re not… we’re not ganging up on you we just-”

Todd sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “We can’t help you if you don’t _let_ us. Maybe… maybe not even then,” even if it pains him to admit it. “We’re not trying to _make_ you do anything but…think about it?”

When he looks up he finds Dirk staring at the ground, fists clenched at his sides and shoulders pulled tight. He can’t tell if it’s more anger or upset, but it makes his heart ache all the same. 

“I am _not_ a child,” he starts, attempting to sound calm, but losing control of that quickly, voice growing louder as he goes on. “I don’t need monitoring, I don’t need _babysitting_ , and I _certainly_ don’t need to talk to a stranger about things I would rather forget even _happened_!”

Just like that, Todd’s frustration is back. “But they _did_ happen! That isn’t just going to go away!”

Dirk meets his eyes for the first time this morning. Todd isn’t surprised to see the tears there, but he _is_ surprised by how betrayed he looks. The rush of guilt leaves him speechless when he goes to apologise.

“Well _maybe_ it would stand a better chance of going away if _you_ didn’t keep trying to get _involved_ in it. I _want_ to ignore it. It _will_ go away if I _ignore_ it. I don’t need _either_ of you talking behind my back and deciding what’s best for me like I can’t make my own _choices._ I’m not a- a _project_ you can work on until, what? You get to decide when I’m good enough? When I can handle it on my own? Well I _am_ handling it on my own. I have _always_ handled it on my own, and I’m doing _just fine_ without help. I don’t _need_ _you_ getting involved.” 

He’s about two seconds away from bursting into tears, Todd can see how much he’s fighting to hold onto his facade. It’s enough to make him reach out to him, wanting to comfort but not knowing _how_ when even the small space between them feels like miles. 

“Dirk-” 

He turns away before Todd can touch him.

It’s the second time today the door has slammed behind him, effectively cutting them off. Farah sighs, dropping her head into her hands and sinking down to the sofa. All Todd can do is stare after him. But Todd has never been good with handling his own emotions, especially not as jumbled and confusing as they are right now, and so it takes less than a second for the helpless guilt to turn to rage as he cries out in frustration, and punches the wall as hard as he can.

It turns out to be a _monumentally_ bad idea. 

The plaster gives fairly easily, knuckles throbbing in that satisfying way that tells him they’re going to bruise, that he might regret it in the morning, but that’s not the problem. The problem is he’s angry. The problem is he’s stressed. The problem _is_ , that he hadn’t had chance to take his medication this morning, and physical stimulus combined with that stress doesn’t turn out well for him when he _has_ done that. When he hasn’t, he doesn’t stand a chance. 

Farah is at his side before he even realises he’s screaming, the feeling of his bones being crushed, splintering from his hand and up his arm in an unstoppable domino effect he can only watch in horror, knowing he’s seconds from breaking every bone in his body and the pain he feels now will be infinitely multiplied to levels he doesn’t know he can even comprehend. Somewhere, deep down, he knows it isn’t real. But it feels real, it _looks_ real, and the pain is _more_ than real. He can’t catch his breath, feeling like he’s choking and hyperventilating all at once as Farah forces something into his mouth, says something he can’t begin to hear over the sound of his body breaking itself apart as she holds him as close as she dares to stop him doing something stupid in his unpredictable state, and in the end it’s a small mercy when the pain overwhelms him enough that he passes out in her arms. 

***

Todd wakes up on the sofa with a blanket tucked neatly around him, a pillow carefully positioned under his head, and gentle fingers carding through his hair. Given who was present when he passed out, it’s the last thing that confuses him enough to make him blink his eyes open. 

“Farah?” And god, his voice is rough enough to tell him that he must have been screaming something awful, but if Farah is petting his hair it’s certainly worth asking about.

“Not quite.”

The sound of Dirk’s voice makes him sit up far too quickly, groaning with the abrupt dizziness that hits him hard enough that he has to lay back down almost immediately. 

“ _Fuck_. Sorry. Is- are you okay?”

“I think I should be asking you that.” He sounds soft, _guilty_ or something like it. When the lighting stops feeling so bright and he can open his eyes to look at him properly he can see the tear tracks still damp on Dirk’s cheeks as he smiles uncertainly down at him. 

“What? Yeah, I’m fine I just… you know,” he shrugs, pulling himself up much more carefully this time. “It happens.” Dirk doesn’t look any less guilty. 

“Farah left these,” he says, pressing a glass of water into his hand when Todd has managed to get himself upright. The bottle of pills follow, a post-it note stuck to them with Farah’s familiar handwriting on it. 

_I’ve gone out to look for Dirk. Drink this and take two when you wake up, call me if anything is wrong._

It makes him smile as he unscrews the bottle cap, knowing it would seem abrupt to anyone who didn’t know how much she cared, feeling Dirk’s eyes on him as he swallows them down.

“Have you told her that you’re back?” and god, talking to Dirk shouldn’t be this difficult. It shouldn’t feel like he’s walking on eggshells trying not to say the wrong thing, it shouldn’t feel _awkward_. There’s a palpable feeling of _distance_ between them and he _hates_ it.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head, pulling his hands back to his lap to fidget his fingers together. “I- I wanted… I wanted to- well I wanted to _try_ at least. Maybe. If you’re… if you still want to, that is. You can say no! But I thought that, if you _didn’t_ say no then I suppose I could try… talking to you. About some things. Maybe. ” 

Todd sighs heavily, leaning back against the couch as he looks at him, tense and uncertain in a way he’s growing familiar with. He wishes he wasn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells him after a long moment of silence. “I- _we_ shouldn’t have pushed you it’s just… we _are_ worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you and- _fuck_. You scared me. I don’t want you to think…” he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “It was a bad way to deal with it.” 

Dirk chews on his lip for a moment, eventually offering him a small, sheepish smile. “I suppose I could have had a more… _reasonable_ response.”

“No, don’t- you just… this is your shit, okay? It’s up to you how you deal with it. Or… _not_ , I guess. But you don’t… if you need to yell about it, then just… yell about it,” he shrugs. “I’m gonna worry, and I’m probably gonna screw shit up, but I’m not… I’m in this. With you. As much as you want me to be. And if that means yelling then I can handle it, as long as… even if you don’t want me to be _involved_ , don’t... push me away.”

“I…” Dirk huffs out a small, unhappy laugh. “I don’t _want_ to- I don’t _mean_ to push you away it’s just… I don’t have the first idea how to let you in.”

“You don’t have to.” It pains him to say it, a horrible swirling sensation in his stomach and the threat of tears stinging at his eyes, but it doesn’t make it any less true. 

“Yes, but I _want_ to.” 

It’s just enough to make Todd turn back to him, trying not to feel too hopeful.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes. I- Of _course_ I do. Todd, you’re- I _love_ you. It’s just… you aren’t the only one who’s scared. Because this is… It’s a _lot_ , it’s so _much_ and I don’t know if- I’ve never told anyone, not _really_. I make… jokes, I suppose. I mention it. I try to… _accept_ it, as much as I can but I don’t… I don’t _share_ it. A lot of the time I haven’t had chance, but if I’m already…” he waves his hands, looking for the words. “It’s hard enough finding people to stay without… all that. So… I _want_ to. I want to tell you things all the time, things I’ve never wanted to tell anyone else, and I _certainly_ don’t want to share it with a stranger, no matter how professional. But I’m still… scared.”

The distance between them is too wide, too much, and as much as he was willing to wait for Dirk to reach out he can’t help but be the first to bridge the gap. He takes his hand as gently as he dares, a single point of contact that somehow lets them both breathe easier. An end to the worst part of the day.

“If you want to talk, we can talk. Or you can talk and I can listen, or… whatever you want. As much as you want. I’ll try to… be less mad about it or something. I know it won’t help but… you don’t have to be scared, you know? I’m not… I don’t let go of things easy. You know that.”

Dirk smiles to himself, just the tiniest amount, but enough to light a little spark of hope in Todd’s chest at the thought that he might just have gotten through.

“Right. Yes,” he nods once, decisive as he straightens out his spine. “I think… I’d rather _not_ do it here. If you’re up for that, of course.” He wants to keep the past out of his future as much as he can he thinks, and there’s too much bad that’s happened in the room already today. “Maybe… outside, somewhere? It’s a little cold, but the weather is still quite nice and, well, the fresh air might do us some good.”

He knows it’s mostly a brave face, but it still makes him happy to see Dirk seeming more like his usual self. He squeezes his hand, leaning over to press a kiss to Dirk’s temple before he lets go.

“Sure. Let me grab my jacket, you message Farah.”

Dirk’s eyes go wide at that, but he nods as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Quite. I expect she’s…”

“Worried?”

“I was going to say all over the place, but yes I suppose that works.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, stretching out as he stands to retrieve his jacket. “She’s… stressed. But she’ll be happy to know you’re okay.”

Dirk, who had previously been fidgeting with his phone nervously like he’s afraid even _thinking_ about a very concerned Farah would make her appear and give him a lecture of loving concern, smiles to himself as he opens up his messages. They may be good at misunderstanding each other a lot, but with a little perspective they’re good at understanding each other as well. Todd just hopes that when Dirk opens up he’ll be able to understand what he needs him to. But, he thinks, smiling to himself when not a second after the message is sent his phone starts ringing, even if he doesn’t understand, he knows how to let Dirk know he’s loved even if it takes a minute to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best way to keep updated with this fic is to subscribe to it (or me, or both) and you'll get a little alert when I post something.
> 
> Comments will make me write faster, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I hope you like it, I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> I hope you all had lovely holidays, that 2019 is good to you, and that I'll see you here for Chapter 5 and their first real conversation about any of this <3


	5. The art of making sense.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Dirk to open up isn’t anywhere near as easy as it seems like it should be with how much he talks, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s talking without _saying_ anything. Changing the topic seems to be second nature to him, and the closer Todd gets to unravelling what it is he’s trying so hard to keep hidden, the more threads he finds. To Dirk he’s sure they make some kind of recognisable picture, but to him it’s just a mess of loose ends, unravelling spools, and knots woven far too tightly to ever be unpicked. It’s more than frustrating sometimes to know that Dirk finds it so easy to get Todd to tell him things, finds it even _easier_ to help him when he does, and yet Todd can’t read him half as well, and he doesn’t know any of the right things to say when he _finally_ lets something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was aiming to get this out a _little_ earlier than this, but it ended up longer than I thought it would, and I've also been working on my Valentines Mini-Bang so I think the first half of the month is still pretty good going. 
> 
> This is a pretty heavy chapter in terms of discussing things. There's nothing too explicit, but things are talked around and emotions are high so please be careful. This isn't the heaviest chapter though, we have a few of those to go yet. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This fic will deal with PTSD and the aftermaths of trauma, I'll do my best to tag it accurately. Tags and characters will be updated as needed with each chapter.

The time it takes them to get to the park is passed in anticipatory silence. A handful of words spoken between them, mostly when they stopped off to pick up drinks when Todd had decided they were called for on account of Dirk fidgeting uncertainly with his fingers and clearly needing something more solid to hold onto. He would have offered his hand but it didn’t feel right somehow, not right now. He’d forgone his usual tea in favour of hot chocolate, telling Todd that take-out tea was nothing like the proper thing in a voice that was both too soft and too heavy, settling into his stomach like lead when he offered Dirk a weak smile, and received an even weaker one in response. 

They’ve been sat on the bench for at least twenty minutes before Dirk makes any move to speak, staring out over the grass and down to the lake, not quite cold enough to make it uncomfortable, but enough that people aren’t lingering with the threat of an oncoming chill in the air. Somehow Todd is more prone to the cold than Dirk is, and he finds himself wishing he’d brought something warmer than his jacket for the walk back. 

“There was a park where I grew up,” Dirk says, seemingly from nowhere and just enough to startle Todd, pulling his attention. Dirk doesn’t move though, he doesn’t really look like he’s here at all. “Smaller than this, I think. It seems bigger in my head but… I was smaller too. It’s… all a matter of perspective really, I suppose.” 

There’s another lapse, another silence, and Todd wants to fill it but he knows he can’t. It’s difficult, really. He’d never really realised how much he relied on Dirk to fill the silences for them, for _him_ , always better with finding words than he was, even if they weren’t the right ones. He can listen though, he _wants_ to listen, if Dirk is willing to talk. There’s plenty he’s wanted to ask about but never known how to or if he even should, if it comes from Dirk on his own terms it feels less like he’s being invasive. 

“My mother used to take me down there. There wasn’t a lake, but there was... sort of a _pond_? It had a little fountain in the middle of it, but it never worked. She used to take me to feed the ducks, but…” he shakes his head, picking up his take-out cup and cradling it in his hands. “I used to get in awful trouble because I’d just… wander off. No matter how small the park was, there were a _million_ ways to get lost, and it would seem I was _determined_ to find them all.” Todd can’t tell if it’s a good memory or a bad one, but he seems lost in it all the same. “It worried her something terrible, she stopped taking me after a while but… I got out anyway. I don’t know why, or where I was going I just… I _had_ to go and so I _did_ and then… she’d come out looking, or I’d turn up at home, or a policeman would find me and… My father gave me a rather _incredible_ lecture on how much I was distressing her, and he told me next time the policeman found me he’d let him keep me overnight for all the trouble I caused. For a long time I wondered if… but it just kept- _I_ just kept getting... _worse_.”

Todd swallows, looking down at his own cooling cup of coffee held between his hands like it might offer him an answer. It doesn’t. 

“I… I think it’s pretty normal for parents to worry? Especially… when they love you. You don’t worry about people if you don’t care about them,” he doesn’t know if it’s overstepping, but he knows he needed to say _something_ and they’re the only words he has. 

“Well. She certainly worried,” he laughs, not particularly pleasantly. “They took me to a doctor first, tried me on all sorts of medication but… it doesn’t work like that now and it didn’t then either. I was doing a lot of… unexplainable things. _Weird_ things. Things I do now but… somehow people were more bothered by it in a child, my parents _certainly_ were. Worried. _Scared_. And then eventually I did something… _too_ unexplainable, too hard to just write off, and it attracted some… _attention_.” Dirk sighs, finally taking a sip of his hot chocolate even though Todd knows it must be somewhat cold by now. “That’s when _they_ showed up. Offering… _promising_ to help. To put a stop to it. To… _fix_ me, or at least find out what was _wrong_. To… make sure I was safe, by which they meant the world was safe from _me_. And so…”

It's not a conversation he knows how to start, or to have at all really. Who on earth does though? Who knows the right words to explain to someone else that somebody they trusted more than anything in the world gave them away? That someone who should have loved them only ended up fearing them? That they'd let someone come and take them away from their life and their home and their family, and lock them away in a room with no windows in a facility with no end where they became a rat in a maze with no hope of escape? He knows logically the words he's looking for are ‘the government took me as a child and experimented on me for years and it was awful.’ But they don't even come _close_ to describing the bottomless pit of unfathomable emotion that he doesn't have the first clue how to decipher after all of these years. He doesn't know how to tell Todd that whenever he thinks about it he feels like he's back there, like he's drowning, like it's clawing at the edge of his mind all the time and he has to keep on doing everything, _anything_ , to make sure it doesn't get in. That the quiet spaces are the worst, because that's where it waits. That's where it will get him. He can run as far away from them as he wants, but he’ll carry them with him in his head anyway.

Sometimes he doesn't think there's such a thing as being free.

“I keep thinking about Arnold Cardenas.”

It feels more like a Dirk thing to say, Todd thinks, because he doesn’t follow it at all. 

“What do you mean?” 

Dirk shakes his head, picking at the label on his cup. “About what he said about his brother and… he said he wondered if Francis forgave him, that he wouldn’t ever be able to tell him he was sorry for sending him away, for betraying him. I keep… I wonder sometimes, if they thought of me. If they ever… _regretted_ it. They were… they were _scared_ and they were _desperate_ , and I _know_ that but… I was scared too. I wanted help too, but I didn’t… the only thing I can do is hope they didn’t _know_ \- that maybe… maybe they thought they’d get me back, or maybe they thought it was going to be… _nice_ , but… I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t- I _tried_ but even now it’s just a _mess_ and- they kept telling me if I could _just_ do what they asked I’d be able to go home. I know now that they didn’t mean it, I think I knew it then too, but... I don’t know if they would even have _wanted_ me back.”

Todd’s been holding his breath since he first started speaking, or so it feels like. The knowledge that this whole situation is something _far_ bigger than anything he could hope to fix is something he’s had from the start, but it’s never seemed more obvious than right now. Dirk isn’t crying, and Todd almost wishes he would just so he’d have something to do, because right now there’s a gaping hole in his chest that’s only accompanied by the erratic overworking of his brain as he struggles to comprehend what Dirk has just told him.

“They… sent you away?” it’s possibly the dumbest question he could ask, but it’s what he’s most stuck on right now. He’d never really given much thought to how Dirk had ended up in Blackwing, but he realises now that the idea that he’d been given up by his parents had never crossed his mind. Given up by his parents like- “wait, how _old_ were you?”

Dirk shrugs, a little uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. Seven, I think? Maybe a little older. It’ll be in the files, but… it’s not something I remember particularly well.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Todd breathes, slumping back against the bench. It’s nowhere _near_ enough to encompass all he _wants_ to say, to express the myriad of thoughts and feelings and white hot protective _rage_ swirling inside his head. But it’s all he _can_ say, all that’s _safe_ to say, because anything more could be too much and the _last_ thing he wants is to make Dirk close himself off again. 

“That’s…” Dirk swallows, fidgeting with the strip of paper he’s managed to peel away from his cup. “That’s why, earlier, I… I don’t like people knowing things are… _wrong._ Blackwing had their own ways of… _deterring_ incorrect behaviour of course, and I can usually _deal_ with that. _That_ kind of wrong is… different, and _far_ more expansive. It certainly didn’t come from a place of-” he glances at Todd for the first time since they’d gotten here, a quick, furtive little thing that he would have missed if he weren’t watching him so closely, “- _care._ But… with my parents it was… and then you- you suggested _help_ and I just-”

His hands have moved to the edge of the bench, gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles have gone white with a tension that echoes through every inch of his being. Todd can’t tell if it’s anger or upset or perhaps something else, but he _aches_ with the desire to fix it. 

“I’m sorry,” Dirk whispers, shaky and rushed before Todd can get a word in edgeways. “I never should have- I _know_ you wanted to help. I _know_ you didn’t mean- but I just- because they all said it would help, that it was going to make me _better_ but it never _did_ and… sometimes- sometimes I’m not sure if they ever meant it to help at all. Help was always… _bad_. In the end.”

It’s a mess, is what it is. Todd fucked up without even _knowing_ he was fucking up, and really if he wasn’t so worried about Dirk right now he’d acknowledge how at least not knowing was progress for him, but Dirk looks so fucking _guilty_ he can’t think about anything else. 

“No- _fuck_ , Dirk that’s… it’s okay, I promise it’s…” he scrambles for the right thing to say, the right thing to _do_ , but it’s even harder when Dirk won’t look at him and he’s so worried that touching him might set him off. It’s the memory of Amanda doing something similar, pretending to be angry with their parents when really she was tired and wanting to go home after a long days wait at the airport, that gives him the idea. He moves slowly, trying not to think about the fact that he’s putting his cards on the table right out here where anyone can see them, keeping in Dirk’s line of sight as he crouches down in front of him, looking up at where he’s got his head ducked against his chest. He’s not old by any means, but he’s older than he was when he did this for his sister and his knees protest at the position now. It’s not enough to stop him.

“You…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair because of _course_ it hasn’t helped him know what words he needs. Todd takes a moment to take a breath, placing his hands as gently as he can over Dirk’s own. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Anything- _anyone_ that made you think that… _whatever_ it is that makes you… _holistic_ is something that needs _fixing_ is an _asshole._ If you _ever_ need help with it… it’s because it’s not something _anyone_ could carry on their own without needing help, _not_ because it needs fixing and not because _you_ need fixing.” Dirk still hasn’t looked at him, but Todd keeps watching him anyway, steady and unwavering. “I didn’t know, _we_ didn’t know that- that it meant something different to you but… it does, and even if I didn’t mean to hurt you it still _did_ , and you don’t _ever_ have to be sorry for that because- and I swear I don’t mean this badly - but that’s _bullshit._ You apologise when you hurt someone, _not_ when someone hurts you. That’s _bullshit_ , Dirk. And you know bullshit when you see it, I _know_ you do.”

Dirk exhales a soft, shaky breath, screwing his eyes shut and presumably holding back tears. It’s enough to make Todd want to hit something again, because the whole situation is so fucking _unfair_ and he can’t _stand_ feeling helpless. It’s something he’s going to have to get used to though, he thinks. 

“They didn’t always want to fix me,” he says after a moment. “In fact, I’m not convinced they did at all. They- _he_ said that they were going to _help_ me. I thought they meant they’d make it go away, but they didn’t want that. They wanted me to control it, or they thought I already _could_ , or they thought that maybe _they_ could but-” the words are rushed, uncertain, and Todd holds onto his hands just a little bit tighter. “They wanted- they wanted to use it, _me_ , all of us. I don’t know what for but… for _something_. That’s why they-” Dirk sniffles, and Todd thinks his heart might break at the sound of it. He squares his shoulders then though, sitting up as straight as he can like he’s readying himself for something, even though when he opens his eyes they’re carefully averted, not daring to look at Todd. “It was… testing. Experimenting. They were trying to… I don’t know, find something I suppose? Of course it was little use, I failed nearly every single one of them, or at least it _felt_ like it, definitely more than enough to make them… _unhappy_. I tried _so_ hard just to make them- to make _him_ … They thought- they thought I was doing it on purpose, or I wasn’t trying hard enough, or I just needed some… _encouragement_ but… I tried. I tried _so_ hard just to make it _stop_ , but it didn’t make a difference because even when I got it _right_ they’d just… keep going and-” 

“Dirk-” he’s getting worked up, _too_ worked up, and Todd doesn’t know how to stop him without making it worse.

“-it could have been worse, I _know_ it could have been worse. I saw- I saw some of the others and they _definitely_ had it worse so I suppose I got _lucky_ really and I shouldn’t complain because a lot of the testing was just like playing games only with _horrible_ consequences if I got it wrong-”

“ _Dirk_ -” his words are spilling out of him like a fountain, tripping over and running into each other in one, long, feverish sentence that has Todd worried he’s going to work himself into a panic attack before he finishes. 

“-but it was still just like games, and when it wasn’t that wasn’t _their_ fault it was- they had _rules_ and _I_ had rules and when I got it wrong then they had to follow their rules because that’s how it _works,_ and they were just doing their _jobs_ , and I _knew_ that and it was _important_ that they did it right or the results would be wrong and the results _couldn’t_ be wrong because they had to be _right_ because if I could _just_ get it _right_ then he’d be _happy_ and I wanted him to be happy, I wanted him to be _proud_ of me and he got _ever_ so upset when he had to send in- but it was all my fault because if I’d _just_ gotten it _right_ then nobody would be hurt and he wouldn’t be upset and then he wouldn’t have had to- to-”

“ _Stop!_ ” Todd keeps his voice as firm as he can, trying not to give away his desperation and relieved when Dirk _does_. “You need- you need to stop, okay? Just- just breathe for me. Just try and breathe for a minute,” Todd sounds every bit as worried as he feels, even if he wishes he could be more reassuring as Dirk chokes on his breath and curls inwards on himself, pulling his hands from under Todd’s to bury his face in them. 

There’s no real time to process everything Dirk’s just said, Todd’s not sure he could understand half of it anyway with the way it had all come rushing out of him. He has no context, no real background for it, but he knows enough to know that whatever those _experiments_ had entailed it was nowhere near as simple as Dirk had tried to make out, tried to convince himself of. If Dirk didn’t need him right now he might just have a panic attack _himself_ over the sheer incomprehensibility of the situation, the idea that Dirk had been taken as a child and _experimented_ on by the _government_. It doesn’t seem like it should be real, like most things when it comes to Dirk Gently, but of all the things he’d come to to accept as his reality despite their unlikely nature, this is the one he finds easiest to believe, and it’s the one thing he’d give anything for it to not be true. 

“You’re okay,” he tells him, keeping his hands on his knees because he _can’t_ stop touching him and Dirk doesn’t seem to want him to. “You’re okay. You’re… you’re _safe_ , and you haven’t done anything wrong, okay? Nobody- _shit_ Dirk, I don’t- It’s not your fault. Whatever… whatever fucked up shit they did to you, _none_ of it was your fault. You have to- you _have_ to believe that. It doesn’t matter what you got wrong, or how many times you did it, _none_ of that means they were allowed to- to hurt you? They did- I _know_ they hurt you, I’m sorry if- if you didn’t want me to know that but… I kinda know that without you telling me. It’s…” he sighs, shaking his head. “Nobody is going to let anything like that happen to you again. And I know… that might not mean much now, or it might not be easy to believe or _whatever_ , but- if you need me to keep telling you that until you believe it then I will. And I’ll- _fuck_ , I’ll tell you that I- I love you, and that you’re the bravest, _strongest_ person I know, and that whatever those _assholes_ did it is _not_ your fault, and- I’ll tell you whatever you want, whatever you _need_ to hear for as long as you want, because _clearly_ you’ve heard enough _bullshit_ so- I guess it’s about time you heard more of the truth.”

Silence falls between them, and he lets it. He doesn’t have any more words, not ones that would be _useful_ right now anyway so it seems pointless to try and make them happen. Dirk is still crying softly, shoulders hitching with his breath even though he makes little sound past that. Todd’s knees are protesting his position even more now, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, just keeps his hands on Dirk’s knees and circles his thumbs against them soothingly, happy to wait for him. 

Eventually Dirk peeks out from behind his fingers, doing his best to wipe away the wetness from his face which improves greatly when Todd hands him a paper towel he’d picked up in the coffee shop. He gets a watery smile for the gesture, watching as Dirk dries his eyes with the occasional sniffle, and hoping the worst of it is over. 

“I-” Dirk meets Todd’s eyes for a moment, before looking back down at the now damp tissue he’s fidgeting with, sighing heavily to himself. “His… The man who came to the door? His name is Riggins. Or, _Scott_ , but I never really called him that. He’s… he’s the man who… I think he ran Blackwing? But he wasn’t that to me, he was… I don’t know. Something else. But… it makes it _complicated_ , our relationship. I- I never really know _what_ to think, so I try not to. I think maybe…” he trails off, fingers tightening around his tissue. 

“What?”

Dirk looks at him careful, clearly considering before he shrugs softly. “I don’t think you’d see it the way I do. I don’t think _anyone_ would.”

It’s not the first time Todd’s had to bite his tongue. He doesn’t know the guy, but having seen the effect he’s had on Dirk he doesn’t think he _needs_ to. Dirk’s right in that way, because he can tell even now that he wouldn’t write him off as quickly as Todd did, and he doesn’t really know how to reconcile that other than trying his best to understand that Dirk has a history with the man that Todd might never understand. 

“How… how do you see it?” he asks, partly for lack of anything else to ask, but also because he is genuinely curious. It does surprise him a little when Dirk meets his eyes, and it’s the most certain he’s seen him since they came here, even with the air of vulnerability that surrounds him. He may be sure of himself, but it’s clearly not something he speaks of often, and Todd already knows it’s something it’s going to take a lot for Dirk to trust him with. He feels a stab of fear at the thought he might be wrong to trust him.

“He was _kind_ to me,” he says, and Todd can hear in his voice how much Dirk is trying to make him understand. “That place, those people it was-” he swallows thickly, but holds his gaze. “Bad. _Awful_. But he… he was _kind_ to me. I know it sounds… _crazy_ , but- there wasn’t anything else. And maybe it was… bad. If I let him down. But he never… he never raised his voice. He never _hurt_ me, and sometimes if I got something right he’d bring me things, or let me do things, or he’d tell me I’d done _well_ and he’d… he’d _touch_ me. Not in a bad way, or any way that hurt, or for any stupid _testing_. Just… people didn’t do that, but he did. He’d… give me hugs, or ruffle my hair, or tell me it was going to be okay. He’d talk to me like… like I was _there_. Real. A person.” He’s trembling, and Todd wants so much to pull him close and tell him he doesn’t need to say this, doesn’t need to _think_ about it, but it’s taken him so much to get to this point it seems cruel to throw it away now. “It made me feel… _human_. Nobody… _nothing_ else did. And I- I cared about him to. About what he thought of me, about… making sure things went well. I wanted him to be happy with me, I wanted to make him proud of me. He was the closest I had to… well, _anything_. And I _know_ it’s not- I’m not _stupid_. I _know_. But it’s… It makes it complicated.”

Todd knows Dirk doesn’t need to hear about how that wasn’t a good thing. He _knows_ Dirk doesn’t need to be reminded of all the reasons that was clearly a manipulation tactic. And no matter how much he wants to argue with him and try to change his mind, he knows that this isn’t some random, objective topic they could argue over without consequences. It’s real to him, it might be the only conviction he has that’s still holding him together, and more than that it’s something Dirk had _trusted_ him with. He can’t tear that away, no matter how much he wants to tell him that none of that was _kindness_. No matter how much he wants to track the man down himself and punch him in the face just for making Dirk think it _was_.

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” he promises instead. Because despite how much he knows that it wasn’t at all what Dirk thinks it was, he can see why he’d need to believe it. 

Dirk sniffles again, dropping his eyes away from Todd’s as he nods his head, a small, brief smile making itself known on his face. It’s enough to let him know he’s said the right thing, some of the tightness in his chest dissipating now he’s sure he’s not fucked _that_ up at least. 

“Dirk?” it pulls his attention back, eyebrows raised in question and Todd curses himself for speaking before he’d worked out the right words. Jumping on the moment without a plan is something that could backfire spectacularly. “I… I know you were saying, about the help thing, and how it’s not always…”

“Good?”

“Right. Yeah,” he nods. “And I guess I just… I was thinking about when we met. You… You asked for my help. Remember?”

Dirk looks a little bemused, if intrigued by the question. “It took a little convincing, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, well. That’s… not the point.” Todd laughs, shaking his head even as he smiles. “I guess… I guess I was trying to say that I think, maybe, if it’s… not good for us to _suggest_ help then… you could always ask for it? And I mean… _obviously_ I’m gonna worry, and Farah’s gonna worry, and we’re gonna _want_ to help but… if you just tell us, when you need it, and _what_ you need then we could maybe, I don’t know. Make sure it was on your terms?”

He’s fairly sure it sounds stupid, he has _no_ idea if that’s even remotely what Dirk needs from them, but it’s the only practical solution he really _has_ and he’s not sure how else they’re going to move forward if not by taking steps together. 

“Okay,” Dirk says after a long moment, sounding _suspiciously_ close to tears. “Okay, yes I… I think I could probably… do that.”

“Good. That’s… good.” Todd smiles, relief flooding through his chest as he nods, glad to have settled on _something_. He finally pushes himself back up to standing, trying not to think about how his knees should _not_ protest that much, and completely unaware that Dirk is watching him. 

“I love you.”

Todd’s suspicions turn out to be correct, Dirk _looks_ close to tears as well, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on that past the way Dirk is also looking at him like he doesn’t quite believe he’s real. For a moment, all he can do is watch.

“I love you too,” he promises, a soft, honest smile making its way onto his face. “You okay?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, yes I’m just… I think I might like to go home now? It really _is_ cold out here and…” he hesitates, eyes flickering nervously over to to Todd. “I think, maybe I feel a bit… well. I think… tea and cuddles wouldn’t go amiss.”

He’s asking, Todd notes. It feels like the first, tiny step of progress. 

“Yeah,” he reaches out to take Dirk’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

***

They walk back hand in hand, and Todd has never felt so relieved. Dirk is holding on a little too tightly, but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that he’d reached out at all, that they’d bridged the gap. It’s hard though, to try and stop all the thoughts buzzing around in his head. If anything, having Dirk talk to him has just left him with more questions than before, and a growing sense of dread around what the answers to those questions may entail. He’s not sure there will ever be a good time to ask, but now certainly isn’t it, and so he contents himself with the fact that even though Dirk is obviously still uncertain and a little skittish around the subject, he’d trusted him enough to tell him things he’s clearly never talked about before. 

It feels surprisingly good, to be trusted. 

Getting Dirk to open up isn’t anywhere near as easy as it seems like it should be with how much he talks, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s talking without _saying_ anything. Changing the topic seems to be second nature to him, and the closer Todd gets to unravelling what it is he’s trying so hard to keep hidden, the more threads he finds. To Dirk he’s sure they make some kind of recognisable picture, but to him it’s just a mess of loose ends, unravelling spools, and knots woven far too tightly to ever be unpicked. It’s more than frustrating sometimes to know that Dirk finds it so easy to get Todd to tell him things, finds it even _easier_ to help him when he does, and yet Todd can’t read him half as well, and he doesn’t know any of the right things to say when he _finally_ lets something out. For now at least they seem to be on the same page, the question is going to be how long that lasts. He’s trying very hard not to be pessimistic about it.

“I want to make this easy for you,” he says before he can think to stop himself. Dirk doesn’t really react, other than glancing over at him carefully and slowing his pace ever so slightly, but it’s enough for him to continue. “This whole… _thing_. I want- Look, I know it’s _not_ , okay? I get that. It’s never going to be easy because it’s… shit. It’s shit. We can acknowledge that, right? The fact that any of this even happened in the first place…” he shakes his head. “This isn’t about me, and… I don’t want to put my feelings about it onto you when you’re already dealing with… all of it. But- I’m… trying to be, well, _honest_ , I guess? So… I wanted to, you know, just… tell you that I’m…” he sighs, muttering to himself, “fuck. This shouldn’t be hard for me.” He stops in his tracks just before the entrance to their building, pulling Dirk to a stop along with him as he turns to face him because Dirk wanted to keep this out of the flat and there’s no way he’s not sticking to that now. “Okay. I have questions. And I don’t… there’s a lot of stuff I don’t really… understand? And I don’t want you to feel like you have to explain things, or tell me things if you don’t want to because I don’t… I don’t want to put more pressure on you, or make you feel like you _can’t_ tell me stuff when you _do_ want to it’s just- Look, I’m angry, about what happened to you. And I wanted to- I wanted to _tell_ you that before it all just… comes out at the _worst_ time because I think… we both know I’m not good with the whole…”

“Not jumping to the defense of people you care about even when the threat isn’t there?” Dirk offers softly, and Todd breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn’t sound upset by his ramblings. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m just kinda… worried that I’m gonna screw this whole thing up by… not being what you need.”

Honesty makes him feel vulnerable, vulnerability makes him feel anxious, and it takes more effort than he wants to stop himself from working himself up into a panic spiral of self-doubt while Dirk finds his words. He only stops digging his nails into the palm of his free hand when Dirk takes it into his own, smoothing out his fingers before twining them together.

“I _am_ sorry, about before, with the… _yelling_.”

“What?” Todd looks up at him, eyebrows scrunching in concern. “No, _no_ that’s not- _fuck_ that’s not what I meant I don’t-”

“I know,” Dirk cuts him off but it doesn’t do anything to lessen the worry that he’s somehow made him feel like he has to be _sorry_ about this. “I know that’s not what you meant. I’m not saying it because… Look. It’s all a bit complicated, and I’m not… I’m not sorry for how I _felt_. Well, how I still feel, a bit, really. But I’m… I’m still sorry for _shouting_. I- I don’t think you deserved that and… well. To be honest I’m not really sure where it came from. It just… keeps happening? The- the feeling angry, rather than the shouting. It’s… a little _frightening_ , really.”

This time Todd is frowning for a completely different reason, Dirk’s shoulders have that tense set to them again and he won’t quite meet his eyes when Todd tries to look at him. 

“You’re… scared? Because you’re getting mad?”

“I-” he sighs, frustrated. “I’m not scared because I’m _angry_ , I’m scared because… it just _happens_ , without any warning, and then it’s like… I react without meaning to and I don’t- I don’t _like_ not being able to just… pretend it’s not happening.”

“Did you… maybe consider the reason it’s all coming out is _because_ you’re acting like it’s not happening?”

Dirk rolls his eyes, and it’s a little sharper and more defensive than he usually is with that particular gesture, but Todd takes it to mean he’s at least on the right track. 

“Yes, _thank you_ , I had in fact considered that. If you have any suggestions as to how _exactly_ I’m supposed to react to it _without reacting to it_ I’d _love_ to hear them.”

Despite himself Todd finds himself smiling just a little, squeezing Dirk’s hands to pull his attention back. “I kinda do, actually,” finding himself suddenly _more_ than grateful for his somewhat angsty youth. “Give me a few days, because it _might_ require enlisting some… _back up_. But I’m pretty sure I know something that might help.”

“What is it?” Dirk’s eyes narrow suspiciously, jumping on the mystery. Todd feels bold enough to lean up and steal a quick kiss.

“Wait and see,” he smiles. “But I’m freezing my ass off out here so...”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t bring a jacket,” but there’s a smile fighting to make its way onto his face too, and Todd considers that a success. 

“It’s not _my_ fault you’re abnormally warm.”

“ _Abnormally warm_? I think you might be exaggerating a little there, I’m just... used to cooler temperatures.”

Todd snorts, “ _cooler temperatures_. You’re like a damn _space heater_.” 

It’s enough to make Dirk grin, dropping one of his hands so he can open the door for them both. “Are you _complaining?_ ”

“No,” he concedes, “makes it more fun to do _this_.” Todd grins, pushing his cold hand up against the warm skin at the back of his neck.

Dirk yelps, skittering away from him with the grace of a baby deer. It’s _incredibly_ satisfying.

“ _Todd_!” he shouts, betrayal written all over his face as Todd just shrugs, grinning as he makes his way up the stairs, leaving Dirk to catch up.

“If you’re gonna make me stand out in the cold…”

“And you couldn’t have waited, oh I don’t know, _five minutes_ until we got inside and you could heat up your hands with coffee instead?”

“Nah,” the apartment is growing dark when he unlocks the door, flicking on the lights as he shuts it behind them. Dirk was right, it definitely feels better now they’ve cleared the air. He’s not going to tell him that though. “Not as fun.”

“You’re a _menace_ ,” he huffs, but there’s no heat in it. Todd watches fondly as he shrugs off his jacket, flopping face first onto the sofa like he’s planning on becoming one with the cushions. 

“A menace who might make you tea if you stop being a dick.”

“ _Might_? Please, Todd. You’d make me tea _whatever_ the situation.”

“Oh yeah? How do you figure?”

Dirk turns his head just enough to smile at him, between the mischief in his eyes and the way his recent sofa-burrowing has messed up his hair it’s just about enough to make Todd’s heart skip a beat. Traitor. 

“Because you love me,” he states matter-of-factly. 

He’s not wrong. 

“Because you’re unbearable if you go too long without it,” Todd corrects, though his soft smile probably gives him away. 

Dirk regards him carefully for a moment, with just enough consideration that Todd finds himself starting to feel self conscious under the weight of it. 

“You can ask,” he says eventually, soft, but certain. “You- you said you had questions? And… well, maybe not right now. And I might not be able to _answer_ them but… you can ask.”

It feels like something has opened up between them, something that scares him as much as it relieves him, but something he knows they’re going to need to hold onto if they’re going to get through the rest of this together. 

Todd nods, just once, just enough to pull a small smile onto Dirk’s face. 

“Not right now,” he agrees, reaching out to run his fingers through Dirk’s hair and smiling at his lack of protest. 

“ _Tea,_ right now,” he demands, turning wide, hopeful eyes on Todd, like there was ever going to be a chance he wouldn’t follow through. 

“Okay,” he sighs, resigning himself to his fate. If he’d going to be running around after him he can at least take some joy in _pretending_ to be a long-suffering boyfriend. “Tea it is.”

It’s a quiet sort of winding down given the way the day had begun, but as Dirk finally curls up against him, he thinks that’s what they need. Neither of them know quite what it is that’s changed, but for the first time since this whole thing started they both find themselves feeling hopeful. Baby steps, Todd reminds himself as he pulls him in closer. A little at a time, and they’ll get there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for communication! (Sorta.)
> 
> The best way to keep updated with this fic is to subscribe to it (or me, or both) and you'll get a little alert when I post something.
> 
> Comments will make me write faster, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I hope you like it, I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> Otherwise, I'll see you for Chapter 6 when I get around to that <3


	6. To put your emptiness to melody.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd doesn’t seem to be complaining much, but his knuckles are still bruised, the hole in the wall still in need of fixing, and while the argument had been smoothed over he’s not sure the underlying frustrations have entirely gone away. He puts it out of his mind for now though, because for now he _is_ happy, and there’s no reason not to stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm pretty early with this one, I know, but I wanted to get it out because my posting schedule may take a bit of a hit in the coming months and I didn't want to leave you hanging. 
> 
> This chapter is soft, but also emotionally heavy towards the end. Like always, please pay attention to the warnings in the tags.
> 
> For reference: [Here is the version of the song Todd is playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3O9R_jFG8A). Make no mistake, he's _absolutely_ showing off, even if Dirk lacks the musical knowledge to know that. 
> 
> (Also yes I stole this chapter title from one of Hozier's new songs and would wholeheartedly recommend checking Wasteland, Baby! out. That's all.)

Things settle. Not easily, not without a little uncertainty from and around Todd, and of course a well meaning, worried lecture from Farah about running off without telling them where he was going, but things settle. It only takes a few days for the air to feel clearer and Dirk knows then for sure that despite his hesitation, getting a few things off of his chest was the right thing to do. The only problem now is that he finds himself wondering what the next step is, where he should start now he’s _made_ a start, and how much Todd will even be able to manage before he’s had enough, because one good conversation doesn’t assuage a lifetime of worries. 

Getting answers to any of these questions though requires finding Todd, who should by all rights be asleep in the bed next to him, but somehow seems to have opted for the somewhat confusing decision to get _out_ of bed. Dirk can’t really relate to that. Bed is warm, bed is comfy, but _bed_ is currently sans Todd, which means it’s sans cuddles, which is easily in the top ten reasons to be in bed in the first place. Without those things it’s much less tempting to stay there when he knows finding Todd means finding cuddles, which will be just as good when he manages to drag him back to the couch for a while. Decision made, Dirk reluctantly rolls himself out from under the covers, stretching out in an attempt to wake himself up, before pilfering one of Todd’s ridiculously soft hoodies and zipping it halfway over his well loved Mexican Funeral shirt. He’s tired enough that he fumbles with the door handle for a moment, and as such is entirely unprepared for what he finds on the other side of it. 

He’d expected Todd to be in the kitchen, trying to coax the coffee machine into being a little faster, or curled up in the window seat reading something Dirk knows he wouldn’t have the patience for himself. But Todd is doing neither of those things. Todd is doing something completely _new_ , something Dirk hasn’t seen him doing before, something he was starting to wonder if he even _did_. But god, if it isn’t the best thing he could ever have wished for. 

Todd is sat cross-legged on the sofa, sunlight streaming through the blinds, eyes closed against the soft light as he picks over the strings of the guitar he has cradled in his lap. It’s not a song Dirk recognises, something gentle, but he’s playing confidently enough that it’s obviously one he knows well. Dirk’s breath catches in his throat, hesitating in the doorway as he just stands and _watches_ , because he’s never seen Todd so sure of himself before, never seen him doing something so practiced, never seen him look as effortlessly happy as he does right now. It’s a moment he wants to freeze and keep forever, but he only has so much time before Todd notices he’s there, and the moment comes sooner than he’d have liked. 

It’s the sound of the door closing behind him that gives him away, distracted as he had been by the sight in front of him he hadn’t noticed when the handle had slipped from his fingers. It’s a soft sound, but in the relative quiet of the moment it’s enough to make Todd jump, strings jarring a little as he closes his fingers over the fretboard to silence them abruptly. Dirk feels like he’s intruded on something for a moment, especially with the way Todd just looks at him, shoulders still hunched with residual tension, before he seems to realise that it’s just Dirk after all, and he lets them relax with his next breath. 

“You’re… playing.” 

It’s not a question, even if it is in a way, and Dirk wants to say a good many things about exactly how that makes him feel but he’s not quite sure yet what kind of a mood Todd is in. 

“Yeah. I just-” Todd shrugs, looking down at the instrument like he’s not quite sure how it got there. “I hadn’t… she needed a bit of a clean up and then… I guess I got carried away.”

“ _She_?”

Todd huffs a soft laugh, “I guess it’s… I don’t know. Respect, or something?”

“For… a guitar?” he ventures further into the room, sitting tentatively on the opposite end of the couch, watching as Todd runs his hands over the contours of the wood somewhat reverently. 

Briefly, he wonders if Todd would touch _him_ like that, given half the chance, and finds himself glad that Todd’s attention is elsewhere if the way his face heats up at the thought gives any indication to the current colour of his cheeks. 

“Well… yeah. Like… _it_ just… feels wrong. Instruments breathe, you know? Music is… alive? I don’t-” Todd sighs, shaking his head. “You kinda just have to get it, _feel_ it, I guess.”

Dirk hums noncommittally, inching just a little closer. “It sounded nice. What you were playing.”

For a minute Todd looks almost _bashful_ , ducking his head against a tiny smile, fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar. He recovers quickly though, clearing his throat and tilting his head. “Thanks. It’s… an old one.”

“One you wrote?” he has to try very hard to keep the excitement that prospect fills him with out of his voice, but he gets a somewhat fond sideways glance from Todd and assumes that means he failed. 

“Yeah. Me and… some other guys. I guess. I haven’t played it in a while.”

“Farah said you sang. In the band, I mean. She said it’s on the thingie she gave me with your songs on it.”

Todd raises his eyebrows. “The _CD_?”

“That! Yes. She said you were the… leader? You did the guitaring, and the singing,” he’s fidgeting his fingers an awful lot in an attempt to keep still, watching Todd with wide, expectant eyes. 

“ _Guitaring_ ,” is all he gets back, dry and unimpressed, if amused. Dirk pouts.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“You didn’t _ask_ a question.”

Dirk rolls his eyes, “you know _perfectly well_ that it was _intended_ as a question, Todd Brotzman.”

Todd holds his glare for all of a minute before giving in. “ _Yes_. I sang.”

This time Dirk doesn’t even try to hide the delight spilling across his face, but he _does_ bite down very hard on his lip to stop it all spilling out of him in the form of questions Todd certainly wouldn’t appreciate. Either way, Todd is perceptive, particularly so when it comes to Dirk, and it doesn’t take long for him to narrow his eyes suspiciously. 

“ _What_?” it’s defensive, and he curls in on himself a little under Dirk’s enthusiastic scrutiny. 

“Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! It’s just that, well, I haven’t listened to it yet and I suppose I was _wondering_ if… _maybe_ … you would…”

“I would _what_?”

“Play something for me?”

An interesting flurry of emotions shutter across Todd’s face, everything from fear to embarrassment before settling on something reserved and cautious as he watches Dirk’s face. 

“Why?”

It’s the last question he’d expected, although possibly the first he _should_ have expected, and for a moment he finds himself at a loss for how to answer. In the time it takes for him to find the right words Todd winds up looking infinitely more distrustful than he did before. 

“Well. You don’t _have_ to of course, I just thought that it would be nice? You looked… happy, before. And I don’t know _anything_ about music-” he rather heroically in his opinion decides to ignore Todd’s sound of agreement, “but it sounded nice. Besides, you’re _always_ doing things _I_ like to do, and while I’m very sure I _would_ like this I thought maybe you’d like it too?”

Todd holds his gaze, looking for something in Dirk’s face and dropping his eyes when he doesn’t find it. “I- I haven’t… I mean, I don’t know if I-”

“You don’t have to!” Dirk rushes to reassure him, sensing Todd’s unease and not wanting to further it. “It’s… you don’t _have_ to.”

“No- No it’s not-” Todd swallows, glancing over at him nervously. “What- what do you want me to play?”

“Oh! I don’t mind, anything really, the song doesn’t really matter!”

Todd’s eyebrows draw together, opening his mouth like he’s going to protest but thinking better of it. “ _Right_. That’s… probably for the best, actually,” the last part is mumbled to himself, but Dirk manages to catch it, tilting his head as Todd takes something off the head off his guitar and positions it over the strings. 

“What’s that?” he asks, curiously. “And what do you mean, ‘it’s for the best’?”

“It’s a capo,” he says, strumming over the strings a few times and neglecting to explain any further. “And it means that I don’t know any S-Club… however many there were.” The way he looks up at him when he’s satisfied with his arrangement lets Dirk know he’s teasing, but he decides to take offence anyway. 

“There were _seven_ of them. And now I’m concerned that you don’t know any good music at _all_ ,” but Todd seems to have relaxed again now he’s decided on what he’s playing, and it’s a look Dirk likes on him so he doesn’t push too much. 

“Oh so you don’t want to hear it then?”

“No! I mean- _yes_ , I just don’t want to be… _mocked_ when I don’t know it.”

“You’ll know it,” Todd assures him, a soft smile on his face. “I’m not singing though.”

Dirk pouts, but concedes that particular fight because he’s sure he can talk him into it at a later date. One step at a time, or something like that. “I _suppose_ I can live with that.”

“Glad to hear it.” There’s amusement in Todd’s voice, but Dirk watches as the expression slips off of his face into something more focused. It’s odd Dirk thinks, to see Todd’s attention focused so much on something and not want to draw it back to himself, but nonetheless it _is_ rewarded, when Todd starts playing and Dirk feels almost like the room melts away around them. 

Todd, Dirk thinks, must be a _genius_. 

He doesn’t recognise the song at first, it takes him a minute to catch up, but when he does he realises Todd has managed to pick a song from one of the very few places where their music tastes begrudgingly overlap. Todd of course, thinks the Beatles are overhyped and tends to favour their lesser known songs out of some kind of rebellion against that fact, and Dirk rarely tunes in given that his tastes tend to be more upbeat and modern, but they’re a british institution and even he can’t argue that, especially when they’re just the right level of catchy to keep him listening. All said it wouldn’t be _either_ of their first choices, but between the two of them it’s a musical compromise that can keep them _both_ happy, and by extension means Farah is happy that they aren’t fighting over the radio _again_. It’s safe to say those crossovers are _rare_. 

But then, Dirk thinks as he watches Todd’s fingers perform a series of complex motions that look confusing at best over the strings and the opening notes of _Here Comes the Sun_ fills up the space around them, _their_ crossover seems similarly unlikely. Todd keeps his promise not to sing, but Dirk can hardly bring himself to care when this is something magical all on its own, in fact he’s not entirely sure he would have _survived_ Todd singing as well as _this_. The concentrated look on his face, the furrow of his eyebrows as he focuses so intently on what he’s doing that Dirk feels like he’s faded into the background, a place he’s happy to be where he can watch Todd’s fingers dancing over the strings and finds his mind drifting back to his musings about Todd’s hands from before. He quite suddenly realises just why so many of the teenage girls in the romance movies he loves to watch find musicians so attractive. Of course it doesn’t help when said musician already looks like _Todd_ , and is therefore already sporting an unfair advantage in Dirk’s humble opinion. He’s so caught up in the music, in _Todd_ , that when the music drifts to its natural ending it’s a good minute before he moves. 

“Dirk?” Todd asks, sounding mostly amused but a little uncertain, and Dirk blinks himself back into reality as much as he can. 

“Hm? Oh! Yes, well, that was…” his mind goes blank as he tries to work out the right word to sum up _exactly_ what that was, but try as he might he can’t find one impressive enough. Instead, his mouth decides to run away with him and speak without permission. “Did you have a lot of girlfriends in high school?” 

He barely refrains from slapping a hand over his mouth, standing his ground instead and earning a bright peal of surprised laughter from Todd in reward. 

“I uh- not really? A couple I guess,” he admits through his laughter. “Why?” Dirk recognises the tone as teasing, but he can’t do anything to stop the way his cheeks heat up with Todd looking at him like that. 

“No reason! It’s just, you’re _very_ good at that. People… like that? That you’re good at it, or that you do it at all, or maybe that you’re playing songs for them? It… it _seems_ like a thing that people would like, which would be _very_ sensible, if you ask me.”

“Uh-huh. What about you?”

“What- what about me?” 

“Do _you_ like it?” Todd, it would seem, is very much enjoying Dirk’s flustered state. Dirk himself is not so much. 

“I- _obviously_ I like it, Todd. I’m a _very_ sensible person.”

Todd laughs again, softer this time, but he pulls the guitar from his lap and sets it down at the side of the sofa so he can lean in to kiss him. Dirk is a little disappointed at the prospect of no more songs, but the kiss _does_ make up for it, and he decides for the moment to lose himself in that instead. 

“Good,” Todd says when he finally pulls back. “It’s… nice. Seeing you happy.” 

The implication being that he _hadn’t_ been happy recently, and he wants to argue that it’s not that bad, but he knows the moments of actual _happiness_ had been rare and fleeting for a while now, and hardly ever this effortless. It makes him feel guilty in a strange way, like perhaps he should have tried to _make_ himself feel happy, or tried better to hide it. He wonders sometimes what kind of an affect this is having on _Todd_. He doesn’t seem to be complaining much, but his knuckles are still bruised, the hole in the wall still in need of fixing, and while the argument had been smoothed over he’s not sure the underlying frustrations have entirely gone away. He puts it out of his mind for now though, because for now he _is_ happy, and there’s no reason not to stay that way. 

“You make me happy.” 

It’s simple, _honest_ , and Todd ducks his head when he smiles, shaking it just a little. At least now they’re _both_ feeling flustered, it’s enough to give him a little thrill of victory, enough to make him remember just how _much_ he loves Todd, and blurt out the one thing that’s been on his mind since they’d started talking about all of _this_. “I want you to be with me.”

It’s rushed, and he doesn’t really realise that it wouldn’t make sense to anyone outside of his head until Todd looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I-” it was a lot easier to admit to when he was assuming he wouldn’t have to explain, now it makes him fidget uncertainly, afraid he’s ruined the atmosphere of the morning, or that he’s going to. “When I… when I do it. Open the… _thing_. Downstairs. The box. Or, rather when I try _again_ because I don’t think last time went _particularly_ well. When I do that I’d… like it if maybe… you were there.”

He doesn’t dare look up from his hands where he’s twisting his fingers into knots, curling in on himself with a defensive hunch of his shoulders. He doesn’t know why he feels afraid, the whole reason he’d wanted to ask Todd in the first place is because he feels _safe_ with him, something he’d only gotten more sure of since he’d started actually _talking_. There’s still fear though, the fear of being known, being _seen_ for what he really is, _everything_ he is, and all the weight that comes with it. Somewhere, deep down, he thinks he’s always going to be wondering what it will be that finally makes Todd see him the same way everyone else had, and he’s not sure which conclusion it would be worse to see him draw, the one where he’s a tool to be used, or the one where he’s a monster. He wonders if it will hurt more to be rejected suddenly, or to watch him slowly withdraw over time. He wonders if he’ll be the last to leave, or the first who takes everyone else with him. And he wishes, more than anything, that he didn’t have any of these thoughts at all when he _knows_ how much Todd would hate knowing he even _thinks_ it, even if he doesn’t really _believe_ it. It’s the kind of weight he thinks he could collapse under if given half the chance. 

“Are you sure?” Todd’s voice is soft, just for him, and he reaches out gently to calm Dirk’s restless hands with his own. “There could be… _anything_ in there. I just- if you’re _sure_ then of course I’ll be there, but I don’t want to know anything you don’t want me to know, and that’s kind of… difficult to prevent when you don’t know what’s there either.”

Dirk swallows heavily, shaking his head as he manages to meet Todd’s eyes. “I can’t do it on my own.” He sounds small, scared, and if the expression on Todd’s face is anything to go by he looks it too. 

“Okay,” he agrees almost immediately, and it’s not the first time Dirk has wondered at how Todd can be so fuelled by anger on occasion and still manage to be so soft. He’ll never have enough words to show how much he loves him. “Okay. When you’re ready, we’ll do it together.” It’s a promise, one Dirk _needs_ and he exhales heavily when he hears it. Todd cups his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead and Dirk shuts his eyes against the well of tears that flood them. “You know, I uh- I picked your jacket up from the dry-cleaners the other day, if you still want it back?” 

The world is still a little blurry when he opens his eyes, and he smiles softly, considering it. “Perhaps… not right now? I do want to! Or… I want to _try_ at least but…” he hesitates, clearly thinking something over. “I think… I want to show you something. It’s- I’ve been,” he huffs, unused to struggling with his words and unsure how to continue. “I keep _thinking_ about it. You’re going to find out eventually anyway, and I want- I wanted to _tell_ you but I can’t- if I think about saying it I get all,” he waves his hands, trying to demonstrate the words he can’t find. “So. I think it will be _best_ if I just _show_ you, and then you can… think whatever you like about it. And then I’ll… _know_.”

There’s something in Dirk’s expression that makes Todd feel deeply unsettled, and his words do little to inspire him to feel differently. It’s big, he can tell whatever this is it’s a _lot_ , and he doesn’t really know if he’s _ready_ for that. But if ready is what Dirk needs him to be then he’s just going to have to try. 

“Okay. I mean- are you- do you need me to do… anything?” he tries to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, but Dirk can hear it anyway, eyes carefully averted as he fidgets with the zipper of Todd’s stolen hoodie. 

“No. No it’s- maybe just stay there? It might be easier if you’re behind me, actually,” a thought that fills him with fear at the knowledge that there’s no way to do this _and_ see Todd’s face, but also relief that he won’t have to _see_ the immediate reaction if it’s a bad one. Todd is a little confused at the instruction, but he nods anyway, crossing his legs to sit sideways on the sofa as Dirk turns his back to him. 

There’s a weight in the air Dirk has to force himself to swallow past, and Todd finds himself wishing there was an easier way to reassure him like this when he can’t really see what he’s thinking. 

“What exactly am I looking for?” he asks when Dirk unzips the hoodie decisively, folding it carefully and hanging it over the back of the sofa. The question is cautious, but he sees the way Dirk hesitates in his movements, turning his head towards the sound of his voice just slightly. 

“You’ll… you’ll know. When you see it. Well, there are multiple _it’s_ , really but- you’ll know.” His voice is unsteady, fingers shaking where he’s toying with the edge of his shirt and Todd aches to reach out and steady them. It occurs to him then that in all the time they’ve known each other, all the (albeit brief) time they’ve been dating, Dirk has never really actually been undressed around him. He’d always suspected he’d had his reasons for sneaking off to get changed in the bathroom before bed, but he’d never really thought it would be anything more serious than the way Dirk could be oddly uptight about the way people see him, now he’s starting to wonder if he should have thought more into it. 

“I-” Dirk shakes his head, but he sits up straighter, like he’s steeling himself for something and it pulls Todd’s attention away from his thoughts immediately. “I think I need- I need you to promise me you won’t… freak out.” 

If he wasn’t worried before, the shaky whisper of his voice is more than enough to do it. Todd can’t even begin to imagine what it is that he’s so afraid of showing him. 

“I’ll… try my best.” He doesn’t want to make a promise he might not be able to keep, not right now, but he has to promise him _something_.

Dirk seems to find that enough at least, because he nods again, a short, sharp thing that seems to be him making a decision because the next thing he does is exhale shakily, and pull his shirt off over his head. 

Todd can’t help the way he inhales sharply at the sight. 

Dirk’s back is covered in scars. Mostly thin, clean lines that appear to be surgical in nature, with the exception of a few which are definitely _not,_ the couple that Todd knows the origins of, and others he couldn’t begin to guess at, though as bad as they are, as _many_ as there are, they aren’t really what sparked his reaction. The thing that pulls his attention is almost incomprehensible, and for the moment all he can do is stare. 

There’s something tattooed into his skin. Bold, black lines set against the pale, smooth skin of his shoulder, forming a symbol Todd knows only from the badge he’d had on his jumpsuit when they found him, and stamped atop the box waiting downstairs. It’s dark, unavoidable, and below that-

**Property of the United States Government.**

**Project: Blackwing.**

It’s enough to make him feel sick, _more_ than enough to render him speechless, and the silence weighs heavily in the air, making the room feel almost claustrophobic despite the sunlight streaming through the blinds. Todd just stares, unable to do anything else even though he can see the tension in Dirk’s shoulders, the rigid line of his spine as he holds himself like he’s bracing for something. Every moment Todd doesn’t react his muscles notch tighter and tighter, until he starts to worry he might hurt himself, but he still can’t find his voice. 

“Say something?” His voice is small and scared, on the edge of tipping over into something else entirely and Todd hopes more than anything that it’s not _him_ he’s scared of. He’d hoped that Dirk would know, especially by now, that there’s nothing that would make Todd love him any less. But this…

“I- I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

Not that, it turns out. Dirk reaches for his shirt, shaking his head in something that feels too close to an apology to sit right with Todd. He can see his hands shaking, feels it when he wraps his hand around his wrist to stop him. 

“It’s… it’s okay. If you- if you’re-” his voice breaks around the words, sending an ache so strong through Todd’s chest that he forgets how to breathe for a moment. “I can… _understand_ if it’s… upsetting?”

“I’m not upset.” He keeps his voice as even as he can, but try as he might he can’t soften it the way he wants to. “I’m fucking _furious_.” Dirk tenses again, and he’s quick to shake his head even though he can’t see it like this, reaching out to rest his hand on his unmarked shoulder, stroking his thumb soothingly against his neck. “No, no I’m- I’m not angry at _you_ ,” it requires _so_ much concentration, and far more self control than he thinks he has to not give into the boiling pit of helpless _rage_ in his stomach. It won’t help though, not here and certainly not now, so he takes a deep breath and tries again. “They had no… _fuck_ , Dirk, the had _no_ fucking _right_ to do that to you.”

“I know,” he says, still holding himself tightly. Todd has never heard him sound so fragile. “But that never stopped them.” He sighs heavily, leaning back into the touch of Todd’s hand. “It was… not a punishment, not really, but… I tried running away a lot. The last time, before I got out, I was… they drugged me when they found me. When I woke up, I was back in bed and… that was there. I didn’t see it for _such_ a long time, not properly at least. He said it was… insurance. Marking things so people know where to return them if they go missing. I suppose it… makes sense.”

“You’re not a _thing_ , you’re not-” Todd feels like he’s going to cry, which feels _ridiculous_ when Dirk isn’t. He’s stronger than him though, or maybe just more used to the ideas Todd is only just being presented with. “You’re _not_ a thing. You’re not their _property_ , you’re not _anyone’s_ property and I-” he presses his palm over the ink, like he can make it disappear by force of will alone. “I love you. You’re… you’re the strongest person I know, and I’m so- it means nothing, I _know_ it means nothing but I’m so fucking sorry that any of this happened to you. If I could- but I _can’t_ and that’s- _that’s_ why I’m angry. Not at you. _Never_ at you. Not for this.”

Dirk stays unnervingly silent for what feels like the longest time. Todd just pulls him closer, uncrossing his legs so he can press them back to chest like hiding it from view could protect him. He wraps his arms around Dirk’s chest, keeping him close and trying his best not to think too much about the scars he’s yet to see that he can feel under his fingertips. He’s no stranger to seeing the world as a cruel place, but he’s not sure how to face the depths of this horror other than by doing his best to make sure Dirk knows he isn’t going anywhere and hoping it’s enough. 

“I don’t know how to be angry about it.” It’s a whisper, not breaking the silence as much as it just drifts through it to Todd’s ears. “I don’t know- I want to feel like it’s… unfair, or awful, or _something_ , but I just… It was _normal_. There are _so_ many things I thought- that I still can’t understand _not_ being normal. I mean, it was _horrible_ , I know I felt… something. But… I’ve never quite managed to think that any of it _shouldn’t_ have happened. Even if… maybe somewhere I _know_ that. It’s still… that’s just the way things were. It’s the way the world makes sense to me. And I think, maybe, I just… _had_ to accept it. I _still_ have to accept it. Because if I think about it too much then… my whole world just…. It’s too much. And I understand if it’s too much for you too because… well, who would want to deal with all of… _this_?”

“Nobody,” Todd agrees, keeping his voice just as whisper soft as Dirk’s. “Nobody wants to deal with that, nobody should _have_ to. But… you _do_. You have to, and it’s so… _so_ unfair that you don’t get a choice in that, but you don’t have to do it alone. I said I’m with you. That means I’m with you for this, that means I’m with you for _everything._ The bad, the good, the… _really fucking weird_. You… you’re braver than I am, but I’m pretty fucking stubborn, and I love you. _All_ of you. That’s… that’s all I can do.” And it feels so woefully inadequate in the face of _everything_ , but it’s really all he has. 

Dirk shifts in his arms then, nudging them both until Todd has his back against the sofa and he’s curled up small against his chest. Todd knows him well enough to run his fingers through his hair once they’re settled, and sure enough it only takes a few passes before Dirk starts to relax into him properly. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t _need_ to, there’s no words that fit what he’s feeling that he can’t communicate better just by holding him. They have some time left yet before they have to start their day in earnest, a few hours before they need to leave to meet Farah for lunch, and it’s time Todd is more than happy to fill just keeping Dirk close like this. The quiet time is a gift, the way Dirk cuddles in closer even more so, and as much as he likes to keep the silence he knows there’s a chance Dirk will dig himself into his own head with too much of it after something like that. Instead of letting it linger, he decides on the one thing he knows will keep him distracted enough to stop him from spiralling down. 

It’s not much, but for the next few hours the space between them is filled with nothing more than the warm, reassuring press of bodies, and the sound of Todd’s singing. 

Dirk can’t find it in himself to be worried anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed that. 
> 
> Comments are pretty much the only way I know people are enjoying this, feedback is the fic writers fuel, so let me know what you think! I like getting words in return for these words. I'd ask you to be nice but I already know you're a lovely lot.
> 
> You can catch me at kieren-fucking-walker on tumblr if you want to yell at me/talk to me about Dirk Gently/generally freak out over these two idiots.
> 
> I hope the next chapter won't take too long, but if it does take longer than anticipated just know that I'm still writing and will not be abandoning this fic <3


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